


Follow Me Down

by Pandsiper



Series: Gun Barrel Blues [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandsiper/pseuds/Pandsiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first installment of Gun Barrel Blues</p><p>Max and Wil are reunited after Thanksgiving leave, Wil with a new clarity on his relationship with Max, and Max with a new reason to be apprehensive about returning home for Christmas.</p><p>Current chapter: Capter 12- Moving Forward</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caristia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caristia/gifts).



> For each chapter, there will be a song to go with it. I'll post it in the notes. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Special thanks to Caristia for the kick in the ass to get this thing rolling again. For that, I'm gifting this fic to her. :)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> For a preface chapter, I started with something simple and nice. "Look Into the Air" by Explosions in the Sky is the opening chapter's song.

**-Scout-  
**

 

Psh. Ain't nuttin strange about it. So yeah I sit around watchin' Snipes do next to nothin' up in his perch. And he lets me. And sometimes we play cards. Sometimes he'll let me shoot his rifle and sometimes we just talk. It's nice. I know I talk a lot, but when I'm with Snipes, I don't have to talk much if I don't want to. He gives me all the attention I want. I didn't get that from my family. Never have, never will. Too many of us. I don't hold it against Ma or nothin'. She had her hands full with us bros. But she loved all of us the same. Now she's wrapped up with the damned RED Spy. But I try not to think about that.

 

Sniper helps to keep my mind off bullshit like that. And he talks even less than I do, which is fine I guess. But when he does talk, I always listen. Part of it's an age thing I guess. I'm 24 and he's like... 32 or something. So I feel like I should listen to him real close when he does talk. Sometimes he just 'hms' or says 'yeah'. But sometimes, he'd offer me this fortune cookie Buddha crap that really wasn't crap at all. It was always relevant, you know? Always made sense to me and helped me figure shit out. Like the time I told him I was kind of maybe gay, but couldn't tell anyone or my brothus would kill me on the spot. He said in his twangy Irwin-y voice, he says to me _“Max, my parents have held my job against me from the day I started. I know the feeling you're talking about, mate. It's hard, I know. But you gotta remember, you are who you are, not who they want you to be. You have the right to like, even love, whoever you want to, mate. I know it's tough when yer family don't approve of your lifestyle. But that's just more'a reason to prove to them that there's nothing wrong with it.”_  That's what he said to me. Like it was nothin'. Like he wasn't a hardened assassin tellin' one of his best mates that it was okay to want to love another man.

 

I don't think he knows that the only man I think about like that is him. I'd tell Snipes anything.

 

Anything but that.

 

So maybe it's a little strange that I think about Wil, that's Snipes' real name, see; we're even on a first name basis, maybe it's strange that I think about Wil even when I'm not near him. And maybe it's strange when he catches on to me lookin' at him like he made the sun come up just for me but won't say anything about it, or when I'll stick close to him so maybe his smell will hang around me long enough to get to smell it as I go to sleep in my own bed. But if it's strange, I'm just peachy with being strange until he doesn't think it's strange anymore. Then maybe it can be okay. And then maybe normal, expected maybe. And one day, I guess what I want is for him to want me to be that way. To be that kind of strange. 'Cause that's all love is, right? A lot of strange shit that hurts and feels good all at once and you never really know what to expect, but you hope for the best 'cause that's all you can do when you're in love with someone who might not love you back. Snipes told me all that. And it's about as true as bushman bullshit gets, I think.

 

I gotta tell him one day. But not any time soon. I ain't ready to be rejected yet.

 

**-Sniper-**

 

He's so young. I mean, we could make it work, sure. But it just seems kind of strange I guess. To be just shy of 33 and tripping arse-over-beltloops for a kid nearly 10 years your junior. Nothin' wrong with Scout, not at all. Brilliant young man in his own way. Headstrong and tough and ready to do whatever it takes to get the job done, just like I like my best mates to be. But he's just so young. And I'm just now gettin' used to the idea of liking another man in a more-than-best-mate kinda way.

 

Sure, I like Scout. Probably a lot more than's acceptable in the eyes of general society, what with the war and all. We're on a _battlefield;_ S'not hardly a time or place for romancin'. But then, this war isn't ending anytime soon, mate. Might as well take the time you have and do what you can with what you've got. He won't ever show it, but I think Scout knows that better than most of us. He's always tryin' to be friendly with everyone, tryin' to make mates outta the others. None of 'em'll have it though, not with the way _he_ makes friends.

 

Still, though. For all the standards I have, I feel like I ought to have more for who I decide to bunk with. Or at least higher ones. Not that Scout wouldn't meet 'em...

 

Oi, no. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't. Doesn't mean he won't eventually. Still don't know about that yet. I don't even know for a fact he likes me in that sort'a way. Can't say I'd see him feelin' like that for anyone else, around here. And that's based off'a what I know he likes, nothin' to do with what I think'a myself. He just treats me different from the others, that's obvious.

 

I feel like I'm talkin' in circles. What I'm getting' at is I like Scout. I like his real name. Maximilion. Unique, just like him. I suppose after eight boys, his mum was running out of regular names for all the little ankle biters.

 

Who knows, maybe I can get to liking him more than a best mate. S'harder than it sounds though. Thinkin' about my life before the war doesn't make it easy to fall in love again.


	2. Places to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two songs for this first main chapter since it's pretty long.
> 
> All I Need / Last Flowers
> 
> Both by Radiohead
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Sniper**

 

“Snipes?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What do you think'a me?”

 

I peeked up from over my hand of cards. I had a full house and was fairly certain Scout knew he'd lose this match. Was this his way of halting the game of poker we'd been playing for an hour?

 

“You're one hell of a subject changer when you're losin' at poker, 'at's for sure.”

 

Scout put his hand down on the table and frowned. “Nah, Snipes. Seriously, man.”

 

Well, this wasn't like him. “Well, Max,” I said, enjoying the opportunity to use Scout's name, “You're a great soldier and a fine mate.” The look on Scout's face told me that wasn't even close to the answer the boy was looking for. “Wouldn't trade ya for all the clear nights in the Bush.” I added with a smile. It was true.

 

“S'at it?”

 

“Whattya mean, mate? How'my _supposed_  to think of ya?”

 

Scout seemed to be thinking heavily “What'd you do before the war?” Interesting subject change.

 

I thought back fondly on my days in the Bush. “Whatever I wanted, mate. I lived off'a the land.”

 

“Did'ja have somebody?”

 

“Wot, like a mate? Sure, I had mates I'd visit fairly often.”

 

“No, man. Like... you know...”

 

“Oh...” Well, there's a subject I never wanted to touch on with Max.

 

There was a long silence between us. I waited to see if he'd make an assumption about me living alone my whole life and we could dismiss it without much talk. The assumption never came. Out with it then I guess.

 

“Yeah, I had somebody. A girl.”

 

Scout seemed to deflate in his seat. “Oh,” That didn't seem to be a good answer for him, either. Too bad. He asked.

 

“Her name was Laura. She was my whole world.”

 

“Was?”

 

“Was.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“See this?” I pulled out the long string around my neck out from under my shirt. The crocodile tooth, yellow with age, but still sharper 'an shit, dangled from it.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“This happened.”

 

“She lost all her teeth?” Trying to be serious, Scout, and still, you're a smartass.

 

“No, ya dolt. It's a _croc_  tooth.”

 

Scout stared at it for a moment, unsolved puzzles scattered across his face.

 

“She was _eaten_ , mate. By a _croc_.”

 

Max seemed to be letting this seep in. After a moment he opened his mouth and small, quiet words came out.

 

“Holy shit. I'm... I'm sorry, Wil... How does something like that even _happen_?”

 

I sighed and rubbed at my temples. “It just _did,_ awlright? If I could'a stopped it, I would'a.” I was beginning to get pissed. This was not what I wanted to talk about. “But I _couldn't_ , so I _didn't_ , so she's _dead_. Couldn't even giv'er the right kinda funeral.” I got up from the table, the chair making a horrid screeching noise when it slid back. “That's it. It ate her. I killed it. Got its tooth to remind me of why I am who I am today. And I hope I never cross paths with another croc in my life.”

 

I walked across the perch-room to retrieve my hat and glasses. I'd made a habit of not wearing 'em around Scout, but that's bound to be a mistake since I'm sure my face is red. Now I just feel vulnerable without 'em. I tried to leave the perch, but Max put himself between me and the door.

 

“Move.” I was not in the mood for his bullshit attempts to make me feel better.

 

“No.”

 

“Move, _now_.”

 

“Wil, no. You're upset. I ain't lettin' you leave like this.”

 

“Whoi not?” I could hear my accent thickening up. I didn't want to be mad at Max, but he brought up the one thing I was just fine with never talking about for the rest of my life. I guess he couldn't have known, but that doesn't make an ant's hill'o difference to me. He should'a stopped when he saw it was makin' me mad.

 

“I wanna help.”

 

“And just wot can you do, mate?”

 

“I... I don't kn-”

 

“You don't know because there's nothin' you _can_  do.”

 

“Yeah there is!”

 

“Wot mate?! You gonna bring 'er back, uh? You gonna bring my Laura back from'a dead? Take away all the pain've felt for years? All the guilt? You gonna end this war an' let me go 'ome, mate? You can't do it, Max. You can't do _bullshit_  for me.”

 

Scout drew back, but stood his ground in the doorway. The hurt registered very clearly in his eyes. “I can try, can't I? But looks like you ain't hardly worth it if yer just gonna be an asshole about it.” Now he'd done it.

 

“And how should I feel, Max?! How should I feel about my girl, my only love getting' picked ou' from between the teeth of'a monster I couldn't save 'er from? I  _loved_  her!”

 

“You can fall in love again.” Scout said quietly, almost plainly.

 

“With who, Scout? The dust on the battlefield? The bullets in my rifle?”

 

Scout was quiet and looked down at the floor.

 

“With you, Max? Fall in love with _you_?”

 

Silence.

 

The fact that he'd even suggest he could take Laura's place fill me with a kind'a hate I hadn't felt since the day she died. “Max, how do you expect to fill in for Laura? She made me happier 'an anyone else in the world-”

 

“Then wouldn't she want you to be happy without her, too?” Scout snapped as he cut me off, “Wouldn't she want you to make the best of things? I'm not some bushman's beautiful daughter or nothin' but I seen you smile at me, and laugh at my shitty jokes. You could like me a lot more if you'd let yourself. You're just too knotted up in your bitchin' and moanin'. You got your head so far up your ass, you can play peek-a-boo with the holes in your back from all the stabbin' that Spy fucks you up with when he's not fuckin' with my ma!” Ouch.

 

“S'at what you think, Max? How d'ya think ya'd feel if the only person you ever loved _died_  in front of you and you couldn't do a damned thing about it?”

 

“It happens ten times a day.”

 

 

That's when he left. Max just turned and left. I dropped down to the floor and felt hot tears leak out from under my glasses. I hadn't cried since her death, either. I felt weak and numb and stupid. Ten times a day. Is that how often I get killed now? Does it really affect Scout that much? 'Course not, he sees it all the time, he ought to be used to it.

 

Then again, I'm not used to the nightmares of Laura's death over and over again. And it's been years.

 

**Scout**

 

_Screw him._

 

I slid down the perch ladder and started running. Something reminded me of that old movie, Forrest Gump. I only seen it once, and even then I didn't pay much attention to it. But I remember, when shit got tough, that Gump fella ran. He ran across the country or somethin' and never stopped. And then everything worked itself out. So I started runnin'. I ran all the way around our half of Teufort and then I ran around _all_ of Teufort, even the RED half. Fuck if I cared if they saw me. Nobody makes a habit of fighting during off hours. I ran out into the desert and after a little bit, the cold air made my lungs tighten up and I felt tears forcing themselves out, but I kept runnin'.

 

How was I supposed to know about what's-her-name? Lauren? Laura. It was Laura. How was I supposed to know he had a girlfriend forever ago? I turned and looked at Teufort. Now at least a mile away, it looked kind of small in the distance. There was Wil's perch. He was still there. I could see the light from the oil lamp. Fucking ancient piece of shit, but there was no easy way to run electricity to the perch. For a second I thought about going back. But fuck that noise. I sat down in the dust, tucked my head in my knees and cursed to myself. I gotta do somethin'.

 

That's when I had the best idea I'd probably ever had. I'd go talk to the smartest guy I knew. He'd be able to tell me what to do. I got up and started runnin' back to the base.

 

In just a few minutes I was standin' in the workshop. The clock on the wall said 9:36. Surely Hardhat would still be up. But I didn't see him. “Hey, Hardhat?”

 

Nothin'.

 

“Engie, where ya at? I need some solid advice, man.”

 

“Just a minute, pardner. I'm comin'.” I couldn't tell where his voice was coming from, but it sounded tired. Maybe I did wake him up? After a few seconds, a door in the back of the room opened up and Engie came out. He was in his white undershirt and his overalls were undone, with just the pants part still held up by his belt. He wasn't wearin' his hardhat or his goggles or his glove either. He was sweaty and looked like he was covered in oil or gasoline or somethin'. And his robot arm never ceased to creep me out.

 

“What got into you, old man?”

 

“Workin' on a project for Pyro.” He smiled back at the door. I guess it was some extra room that he hid secret projects in. I wanted to go in and see, but I got bigger bears to beat. “You said you needed somethin', Scout?”

 

“Yeah, uh... can we sit down. It's... um, it's kinda weird, but I need some advice.”

 

Hardhat started to look worried, but he offered me a seat in the only chair in the room and he sat down on the big tool box he carried around on the battlefield. “What's got you so riled up, little buddy?”

 

“Well, uh... There's somebody I really like...” Hardhat raised an eyebrow at me, “As a friend!” He settled back down into his seat, but I think he still thought I meant something else. I did, but he didn't need to know that. “And well... I think I made 'em real mad.”

 

“How so, Scout?”

 

“I think I hit a nerve when we were talkin'. And I tried to talk to 'em and help, but they just got madder. Now I'm pretty sure they don't ever wanna talk to me again.”

 

“I doubt that, little buddy. If it was a touchy subject, I'd bet it's something they need to talk about but are scared to. Maybe it hurts too much. I bet they didn't mean to take it out on you.”

 

“I just wanna make 'em feel better, ya know? Show 'em that I might be able to help. I mean, I'm not pretty wit' my words like you or Spy or anybody else, but I mean... I care about 'em. Maybe I can help a little.”

 

“Sounds like you ought to go talk to them one more time. Maybe they've had time to cool off. I bet they'd really appreciate your concern, pardner. Just take your time with 'em.”

 

“What if h-... they won't talk to me?” Whew, almost slipped up there. All hardhat needs to know is that maybe I had a falling out with a girl over the phone or something.

 

Engie smiled at me. “They will. I got a good feelin'.”

 

I stood up and turned to leave. “Alright, I'll try. Thanks Hardhat.” I started out the door.

 

“Scout, there's a shortcut to the perch if you cut through the showers. Then you won't have to go all the way around the base.”

 

Oh, that's nice to know. “Thank-” Wait. What? How did he-? I turned around just in time to see the Engineer disappear back into the back room. How did he know I was talking about Snipes? That Hardhat knows too much for his own good. Oh well. Right now I need to catch Wil before he leaves or goes to bed.

 

I cut through the shower room and just like Hardhat said, the back door lead straight out to the back of the base just a few yards from the perch. I climbed up the ladder as quiet as I could, but stopped a few rungs short 'cause I could hear Snipes inside. It was hard to make out, but it sounded like maybe he was... cryin'? No way. Snipes doesn't even know how to cry. I don't think he even has the parts in his eyes to cry. But the more I listened, the more that's what it sounded like. It was an awful, choked sound. If he was crying, he was sure as hell trying to stop. Then he started mumblin' stuff to himself. I could hear some of it, but some of it just sounded like blubberin'.

 

“...so, so sorry, darlin'... I don't... don't know what to do...I need... here... so sorry...”

 

Well, I'd heard enough of that. I took a deep breath and climbed the last couple of rungs up the ladder and stepped into the perch. Snipes was sitting in a chair in front of the big open window of the perch, his head was down in his crossed arms on the window sill. No wonder I couldn't hear him well. But my steps must not have gone unnoticed. The moment I started walking towards him, his head shot up and he turned to look at me. He still had his hat on, but his glasses weren't there and his blue eyes were bloodshot and tired lookin'.

 

“Get out.”

 

“No.”

 

**Sniper**

 

He came back. Why did he come back up here? Hadn't he done enough damage?

 

“Max, _please._ Just leave. This isn't a good time.”

 

“Do I look like I care what time it is, Wil? I ain't leavin'.”

 

“What do you want, then?” I was too tired, too sad to deal with this. He started walking towards me. I couldn't place the look on his face, but I think, if it was more'a one thing than another, it'd be more concern than anything else. Still, though. I didn't need his sympathy.

 

“I just want to help.”

 

“You can't take 'er place, Scou-”

 

“I ain't tryin'!” There was hurt in his voice. “Can't I have my _own_ place, Wil?” What was that supposed to mean? “I know I can't take her place. I don't wanna. But can't I have my own? You wanna be happy, right?”

 

Yeah, I did. But how could I without her? I didn't say anything.

 

“She'd want you to be okay, wouldn't she?”

 

She always said to stay happy. What would she want me to say? She'd always said to me, “No matter what, always make sure you're happy, Wil. You deserve it.” Whenever I was pissed silly about somethin', she'd tell me that. The past couple of years here at Teufort... Hell, I haven't been a lick'a real happy 'cept around Max. Until Max, I didn't even laugh much 'cept to myself when I got a nice kill. She wanted me to be happy, yet I've done nothing but push everybody out, even my best mate. Some homage to her love I've made.Hell, this could be my last chance. I've got to try. I tried to talk to an imaginary Laura in my head. _I love ya, Laura, but ya ain't comin' back. Ya want me to be happy, darlin'? Maybe this is the only way._

 

“Yeah...” I finally got the words out. “She would.”

 

“So why can't I have my own place wit' ya?” He suddenly seemed so sad and desperate. I thought about all the times I'd been killed. Sure, they were meaningless deaths, but they still hurt him. And I thought about time after time I'd watched him die. I always winced a little more when he was killed than the others. Maybe he knew more about how I felt than I'd gave him credit for. He couldn't take Laura's place, but he didn't have to. I took my hat off an ran my hands through my hair. The room was so stuffy, it was makin' it hard for me to breathe. I looked at Scout. He looked so distant, starin' at me like that, expectantly. Like I was some rare prize just shy of his hands. What little breath I had left, the sadness in his eyes stole the rest.

 

**Scout**

 

Snipes didn't say anything for a while. He just sort of looked at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinkin' but I could tell he was thinkin' really hard. Probably tryin' to think of all the other ways I could ruin his life. But then he walked up to me, got real close to me, and put his hands on my shoulders. I pulled away a little. I wasn't sure if he was gonna try to hit me or somethin', but he wouldn't let me move much. 

 

And he just stared down at me for a long time. He had these bluey-green eyes that looked so tired. For a second I thought he might fall asleep standin' there. But then he wrapped his arms around my neck and he held on to me really tight. It scared me a little and I think he noticed, 'cause when I gasped, he froze. I relaxed in his arms after a minute and then he did too, and I decided now was as good'a time as ever to react, so I put my arms around him, too, and hugged him. Losin' his girl was different than seein' us die out here. We come back. She didn't and she won't. I never really lost anyone, but I liked to pretend I knew how he felt after seein' him die so many times. Especially to that damned Spy.

 

I felt Wil bury his face in my shoulder and I knew he was cryin', but I wouldn't ever tell him I knew. His pride's already hurtin' as it is. So I just hugged him tighter and let him cry for a while. No tellin' how long it'd been since he grieved for her, or if he ever did to begin with. I'm just a pot callin' the kettle black, but you can't bottle that shit up.

 

When he seemed to quiet down, he loosened his grip on me. And I heard him sigh. “You can, Max. 'Course ya can.”

 

“Can what?”

 

“Ya got your own place with me, Max. Y'always did. I'm sorry... for yellin' at ya. You didn't know about her or what I was feelin'. You couldn't've known. Wan't no place'a mine yellin' at ya like I did.” He squeezed me a little tighter, but I didn't care. I rubbed circles on his back. I didn't care how gay we looked or what would happen if someone saw us. None of it mattered. He'd said I had my own place with him. That meant I had a chance. Maybe, just maybe, he could love me. That's all that really mattered to me. Everything and everybody else could just fuck off. I made a note in my head to thank Hardhat for this later.

 

“And ya always got one wit' me, Wil. Whether ya like it or not, pal.”

 

He pulled away from me and looked straight into my face and his eyes looked even more red and tired, and that made the blue in his eyes stand out even more.

 

“Max, what am I even supposed t'say to ya? This isn't any way for ya to see me. I look bloody awful. This isn't a proper side to me ya need t'see.” He's concerned about how he looks in front of me?

 

“Sounds like that Spy's rubbin' off on ya, Wil. You know I don't give two fucks 'bout how ya look. Shit, man... you look...” I took him in for a minute. His eyes were red and puffy. His hair was messy. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway and he slouched like he was givin' Heavy a piggyback ride. To be honest, he looked like shit but at the same time, he looked like he could carry the world on his shoulders. “Wil, you look like the strongest man I ever met.”

 

“After I sat here and blubbered all over you? I doubt it. Pretty sure I ruined your shirt with all my bullshit tears. Fuck, there isn't a thing close to manly about what I just did.”

 

“Wil, you been holdin' back grief for ya girlfriend for who fuckin' knows how long. You're an assassin. You throw piss at people.” I caught a glimpse of a smile on his face. “Stupidly strong in every way, and gross as all fuck. I'd say that's as manly as it gets. Everybody deserves a tear or two when shit gets rough. That's what you got buddies for. That's why you got me.” He turned his chair around and sat back down in it. I took that as an invitation to sit down in the other chair facing him. “I dunno why you felt like I couldn't do nuttin' for ya, pal. Yeah, I can't bring'er back, but I can be here to make sure you stay happy.”

 

“I know, Max. I know. Ya shouldn't have to worry 'bout me though, mate. I'm a grown man.”

 

“I bet she worried about you all the time.”

 

“Yeah but she's a lady.”

 

“In the end, does that really matter, Wil? Feelin's are feelin's, aren't they?” I took a deep breath before I spoke again. This was getting tough. “If I... love ya... then I got the same worryin' rights as her, don't I? Hell, look at Pyro. We don't know for sure  _what_ gender he is, and we  _all_ worry about him.”

 

Snipes laughed some and that made me feel better about basically throwing my heart at him. “Sure, mate... if ya love me.”

 

“Maybe I do.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Fuck if I know.” Total bullshit. I knew damn well how I felt about him.

 

Somethin' caught my eye then. It was across the base from a window on the RED side. A tiny, bright red light that moved across the perch and disappeared behind Snipes' head. Instincts took over. I couldn't even figure out what made me do it but I found myself pulling Wil out of his chair and into the floor “ _Down!_ ”


	3. Red Lights (Welcome, Welcome)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting back on track to where the old fic left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first half of this chapter, and from Sniper's POV, Attitude by Alien Ant Farm.
> 
> For the second half, and from Scout's POV, What Sarah Said by Death Cab for Cutie

**_Sniper_ **

 

Loving Scout. Now there's a novel idea I'll have to spend time thinking about once I get my head off'a the floorboards and out from under his belly.

 

Max had pounced on me and I heard a loud crack. That crack was a gunshot. From a sniper rifle. I knew the sound better than the sound of my own breath. But the only other bloke out here with a rifle was the RED Sniper, who, by word of mouth, was known by name to everyone. Baz. No last name to speak of. Just Baz. He and I were the longest standing members of our teams, and we were constantly at odds with each other. It always stayed on the battlefield, though. Always sportsman-like. Always professional. Seemed as though he decided it was time to have me replaced, wot with tryin' to kill me for good during cease-fire hours.

 

I felt Scout tremble on top of me. I moved my arm up, with some difficulty, and patted what I assumed was his side, telling him to move. He slid off, but stayed low and kept a hand on my back.

 

“The fuck does Baz want with you right now, Snipes?” He hissed quietly, as if the Sniper across the field was only six feet away.

 

“Wants me dead, probably. He's probably tired of me bestin' him at everything.” I grinned at Scout, but he just looked mad and scared.

 

“Don't look so smug, asshole. You could have died. For good.”

 

“But I didn't.”

 

“Only 'cause I saved your ass.”

 

Just then, there was a weird sound. _Thwumk._ Like the sound of Demo's grenade launcher firing. No... more like...

 

Too late. There was a loud crack, like fireworks, and that was it. The perch was in flames. A flare. Scout and I kept our heads down and I crawled across the room until I found my rifle. No saving the perch, but I had to protect Scout. I pulled the rifle up and stood on shaky legs. I heard Scout beneath me.

 

“Wil, get down! _Wil!!_ ”

 

His voice was lost in my concentration. Through the scope, I saw Baz and the RED Pyro in a window. Baz was aimed directly at me. I heard the shot before it reached my ears and I shifted to the right. The bullet hit my left shoulder. I shot back and nailed the Pyro square between the eyes. He had just let another flare go. I held my rifle in front of my face and felt the flare explode on the barrel. It burned my fingers and left the gun white-hot, but I reloaded and ignored the pain. I held the rifle back up. I could feel Scout trying to get up. I glanced down at him and saw him on his knees holding my SMG and trying his best to stand and join the fight. I put my foot on his back and shoved him back into the floor. “Stay _down,_ Max.” Just then, another shot. I felt it in my stomach. The pain was immediate, like an infinitely long rusty knife running through my belly. I aimed and fired. He didn't fall, but Baz was visibly injured and retreated.

 

The fire in the perch grew and soon engulfed everything. I slid down and sat next to Scout, who had his hands over his head.

 

“Max,” goddamn it was hard to speak. I felt my insides twist and ache and burn. “we've got'ta get outta here.”

 

“Wil you got hit! I told you to stay down...”

 

“Shatahp. Ya can be pissed as a painted pony at me later. We gotta leave!” Pain thickened my accent almost more than anger. “Help me ahp, awlroight?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” He stood up, trying to find his balance in the creaking and shaking perch. There was so much fire. He leaned in close to me and put his arms under mine. The fire reflected in his dark blue eyes made them look like deep, dark lakes lit up by a sunset. Beautiful, really. I never really paid much mind to them before. I didn't get to look long, though. He strained to lift me, so I tried to put my weight on my legs and stand up on my own, leaning on him for support. We hobbled to the door of the perch, only to find the ladder missing. It was laying on the ground, half charred. The RED Pyro must have hit it first, to prevent our escape.

 

“Aw, fuck. What now?” Scout looked at me. “We can't jump. We're over a hundred feet up...” His expression was so grim. His question was answered soon enough, though. The legs of the perch gave way and the whole building began leaning towards us. Instinctively, we stumbled in the opposite direction, trying to balance it back without us falling out the door. It didn't work.

 

I felt Max wrap his arms around my neck and his hand found its way into my hair as he yelled into my neck. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Fire licked my face and wood splintered and cracked. The noise of everything falling apart and the tight hold Max had on my neck , and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to keep him safe. The world turned sideways and I held Scout as close to me as I could. We started sliding down across the floor. From the window and doorway I could see the ground getting closer and closer. And then, nothing. The world went dark. I must be dead. Shit.

 

**_Scout_ **

 

When I opened my eyes, smoke stung 'em and made me want to just shut 'em again. But I needed to see what was going on. I looked around. There was fire and smoke everywhere. The perch was in a billion pieces, scattered around all over. Then, about six feet from me, I saw Snipes. He was on his side, curled up, and I heard him coughing. I ran over to him and rolled him over on his back. In the light of the fire, I saw the holes in his stomach and shoulder. Then his eyes caught mine.

 

“Ya'wlroight, Max?” His voice was so quiet.

 

“Fuck, I'm fine. Just sore. Wil, we gotta get you to the Doc. You don't look too hot.”

 

Then I heard something. Something awful that gave me chills and made me want to vomit even under the best circumstances. It was the sound of Baz's laughter. I turned and saw him stumbling up to the destroyed perch. Wil had shot him, alright. But he hit the right side of his chest, rather than the left. And now Baz was here. Blood leaking from his mouth and obviously weakened, but he was here. And he was laughing. It was rough, low, and not too different from Snipes' laugh. But Baz had hate in his laugh, poison in his smile, and killer in his eyes, visible even through his sunglasses.

 

“ 'Ello, mate. 'Ow's it goin'?” He smirked.

 

“Get the fuck out of here, you bastard.”

 

“Now, 'at's no way to treat a guest, boy.”

 

“Ya'ain't no guest of mine. Trespasser's more like it. Now fucking leave, before I take those glasses and shove 'em where the sun can't find 'em.”

 

“Scout,” I heard Wil talk softly to me, “run, _please_. Don't let him hurt you.” Snipes leaned up on his elbows and grabbed at my hand.

 

“He won't touch me.” I looked down at Wil. He looked genuinely scared. I'd never seen that in him. I smiled at him, 'cause maybe that would calm him down. “I promise.”

 

I reached down and grabbed a piece of wood that was still burning at the end. I had to act fast. I saw Snipes was reaching for his knife. “Get to him when you can.” I whispered under my breath. But I knew he heard it 'cause he grunted at me in response.

 

“Wot're you gonna do with that, mate? 'Aven't got a ball to play with ya, baby boy.” He grinned at me and reminded me of all the Animal Planet specials I'd seen on crocodiles.

 

“ 'At's right, asshole. Ya'ain't got any balls at all.” I ran for him straight on as fast I could. He pulled his rifle up and as soon as he had it aimed straight at me, I ducked and slid into his legs, throwing the flaming plank up in his face. Who says playing baseball in school wouldn't be handy on a battlefield? Not me. He stumbled forward and landed flat on his face, screaming in pain when his chest hit the ground hard and the wood plank smashed into his eyes. I stood up and threw myself down on his back, pinning his arms behind him under my legs and pulling his head back by his hair. By now, Snipes was on his feet and making his way towards me and Baz.

 

“Beautifully done, Scout. You'd make a foine crocodile hunter.” Snipes smiled at me as he knelt down in front of Baz, who was writhing under me.

 

“Ugliest crocodile I ever seen.”

 

“Got that roight.” Snipes ran his knife across Baz's face, under his eyes and over his nose. He growled at Snipes and wiggled harder. I was having a hard time keeping him down.

 

“Don't _play_ with him, Snipes. You'll get him all hot and bothered.”

 

“Roight. Just one thing before we kill ya, Baz. What exactly were you trying to accomplish there, mate?”

 

“I was going to kill the _boy_ , not you. Killing you would be too simple. Taking him away from you would be so much more... _interesting_.” There wasn't an ounce of fear in Baz's voice, and I felt my hands start to shake and the idea of him trying to kill me. I looked at Snipes. Suddenly, his eyes were so angry. I saw his hands were shaking, too. But I think for a different reason.

 

“Bad idea, _mate_.” Snipes took Baz by the neck and pulled him clean out from under me. He threw him against the nearest wall, turns out it was the outside wall of the shower room, and he leaned in close, putting the tip of his kukiri against Baz's temple. “Wot'd Scout ever do'ta you, hm?” He didn't even wait for an answer. “Nothin'.” Then Snipes got so close to Baz's ear, I think his lips were touchin' it. “You knew what happened to me back before the war, and you would _dare_ to try to take away the only friend I got left? You made a _big_ mistake, mate. And it will cost you your life.” Snipes spat the words out and took his knife and held it tight against Baz's neck. Blood trickled down his skin and pooled on the blade.

 

“S'not over yet, Wil.” Baz had the tip of his knife on the wound in Wil's stomach and I saw him wince in pain. Then Baz moved the knife and aimed it at me. With a quick flip of his wrist, the knife was hurling towards me. Out of reflex I covered my chest and stomach. But the knife found its way into my thigh. Gaddamn that fucking hurt.

 

“Max!” Snipes glared at Baz and quickly finished him off with a smooth swipe of his knife. I yanked Baz's knife from my leg and hobbled towards Snipes, pain shooting through me with each step. But I knew what Snipes was feeling was ten times worse, at least. Wil turned to me, letting Baz's body drop, and clapped his hands over my bleeding leg. “Max, I'm so sorry, I should've disarmed 'im.”

 

“I'm fine. You need to see Doc.”

 

“No, Max, I-I'm.. just-” and then he blacked out.

 

Speak of the devil, just then Doc and Engie came runnin' outta the base. “Doc, get Snipes, will ya?”

 

Medic was in his pajamas: a t-shirt, long sleep pants, and slippers. But he ran up to us and grabbed Sniper anyways, ruining his clothes with blood as he pretty much threw Snipes over his shoulder. “Ja, I've got him, Scout. You go vith ze Engineer. He can take care of your injuries.” And with that, he was off with Sniper in tote like a sack of potatoes.

 

“Thanks, Doc.” I turned to Engie, who was already by my side, pulling my arm over his shoulder so I could lean on him better.

 

“What happened, pardner?” Engie looked at me with concern in his eyes.

 

“Well, your advice worked. Thanks.” I smiled at him.

 

 

In a little while, I was pacing through the sitting room outside Doc's office. The cut in my leg wasn't too deep, and even though it was still a little sore, it was very manageable. Engie's not a bad doctor himself, what with those dispensers and all. But now I was focused on finding out about Snipes' condition. He didn't look good at all last time I saw him.

 

After about 20 minutes, Medic came out, covered in blood and clearly exhausted.

 

“He's stable. Hopefully he'll survive the night.”

 

I could feel my heart breaking. “ _Hopefully?_ What the fuck does _that_ mean? Is he okay or not, ya quack?”

 

“Ve vill _see_ , Scout. Now, I'm going to go back to bed. Wake me if his condition changes.”

 

“Alright.” I sighed and started for the door to the med bay. “Thanks for workin' on him, Doc...”

 

“My pleasure.” He said it like he meant it far too literally. The sleepy grin he gave me didn't help his case for sanity, either.

 

I stepped in and saw a great big curtain pulled all the way around Sniper's bed. The lights were dimmed and the room smelled like blood and death. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the worst, and pulled the curtain back.

 

Well, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He was breathing on his own. There was a rack by his bed with a big sack of blood hanging from it, connected to his arm by a tube and a syringe. The bag was labeled 'Sniper – Dacey, Wil'. Each month, we're all required to give blood to stock Medic's shelves in case one of us gets so seriously injured that we need blood. This way, we just take from the stock of our own blood. That meant 'Dacey' was Wil's last name. I looked around and saw the glass case across the room that held all our blood. Mine was there. 'Scout-Robinson, Maximilion'. I hoped I never needed it. The others were there as well and I took a moment to figure out everyone's name.

 

Medic-Reiniger, Guntram, Demoman-O'Dairre, Angus, like the beef? Engineer-Rutherford, Thomas, Heavy-Koshkin, Romanov, Spy-Bertrand, Astor, so that was Astor's last name... funny name. Pyro's was Orre, Casey. Casey Orre? Fuck that could be male or female. So much for learning his true identity. Then I realized there were only eight bags total. The seven in the case and Sniper's. Where's Solly's?

 

I snapped back to reality when I heard a soft moan from Sniper. I looked down to see him shifting in his sleep. His shirt was gone and his stomach was heavily wrapped. By the looks of things, he was stripped down to his boxers, but I tried not to let my eyes wander too far down. He'd flip if he knew I was checking him out while he was incapacitated. His shoulder was wrapped up as well, and he seemed like he was in so much pain. There was a medigun on a swinging wall mount positioned over him. I flipped the power switch from low to high and that seemed to ease his pain some.

 

He settled down and mumbled a little. His fists were clenching and unclenching, like he was trying to find something to hold on to. I pulled an chair up to the bed and sat down and I watched his face carefully as I slipped my own hands over one of his. Instantly his eyes shot open and he turned to me. Fuck, he saw me. I tried to pull away, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

 

“Stay. _Please._ ” I felt my heart stop.

 

“Sure.” I ran my thumb over his hand.

 

“You okay?” His voice was quiet.

 

“ 'Course. You?”

 

“Been better.”

 

“Doc says you should be fine.” I didn't want to say he'd said 'hopefully'.

 

“Hope so.”

 

“Yeah, you got a lotta fightin' to do.” I smiled at him.

 

“ 'At's not why I was hopin'.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Hope so, for you.” He squeezed my hand.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothin', mate. Just wanna be here for ya s'all. _With_ ya.”

 

There was silence between us for a while. Then he spoke again.

 

“How's yer leg?”

 

“S'alright. Nothin' I can't handle. Hardhat fixed me up. Just some smoke in my lungs otherwise. I'm just peachy. S'why I came to see you.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“For comin' to see me... and for saving my life.”

 

“Oh yeah, I did do that, didn't I?”

 

“Yeah, mate. I owe you.”

 

“What was that? You _love_ me?”

 

“ _Owe._ ”

 

“I think I heard love.” I grinned at him. And he just frowned back.

 

“And I think you're roight mad.”

 

“Oh come on, you know it's true.”

 

No response. I decided to change the subject. “Wil?”

 

“Yeah, Max?”

 

“How'd Baz know about Laura.” The look on his face told me he'd forgotten what he said to Baz and probably never thought about how I could hear him before.

 

“In an attempt to get in my head, he found a way to get my file from administration. Read up on the intimate details of m'life, and taunted me with 'em. 'At's why he wanted to get rid of you. To hurt me.” He looked at me and gave my hand another tight squeeze.

 

“Sorry. I guess I caused you a lot of trouble, tonight, huh?” I looked at the clock on the wall. 12:24. Good thing tomorrow's a Saturday. We need the sleep-in time.

 

“It was worth it.”

 

“How?”

 

“I was reminded what it was like to really care for somebody.” He smiled at me. His eyes, god his eyes were just so perfect. “Just don't go getting' shot at during off-time anymore.”

 

“I won't if you won't.” I laid my head down next to his hand. He ran his other hand through my hair and pet it gently. We fell asleep like that.

 

**_Sniper_ **

 

I woke up before Scout, right as Doc was coming in to check on me.

 

“ 'Ow are you feeling, Herr Sniper?” He unhooked the blood bag, pulled the needle from my arm, and replaced it in its proper spot in the glass case. He was already in his medical coat at seven in the morning. Better early bird than me, that's for sure.

 

“Ten tons better, Doc. Much obliged.”

 

“Very vell. You may unwrap your bandages. Ze wounds should be healed by now. You may experience some soreness for the next few days. Try to take things slow vith your left shoulder.”

 

“Understood.”

 

“I'll leave ze two of you alone, zen.” And he left.

 

I looked down at Scout. He was hunched over in his chair, his head on his arms and breathing quietly. He looked so calm.

 

I sat up carefully on the bed. My belly ached; Like when you first realize you're real hungry, but it had a small twist of pain with each movement. I was careful not to bend in any weird ways. I carefully unwrapped the bandages on my stomach and arm. The scar left on my belly reminded me of those scars women sometimes have when they have to have their babies removed through their stomachs. Cesarian section, I think it was called. O'course my scar was much smaller than those. Just a small pink mark, slightly raised and a little tender, just above my navel. The scar on my shoulder was about the same, but a little less sore.

 

With the bandages off, my newly exposed skin sucked in the cold air of the room. It felt great. Clean, like a shower. What'd I'd do for one of those right about now. Scout shifted in his sleep. I touched his arm. It was ice cold. Well, that won't do. I pulled the thin blanket off myself and, with a little trouble, managed to wrap it over his shoulders. That made him ease up some. I stared down at him for a little while.

 

Loving Scout. What a notion. Loving young, honest, hyper, noisy, obnoxious, rude, perverted, misunderstood, and underestimated Maximilion Robinson. I suppose it wasn't any more convoluted a thought than the idea of the RED Spy shaggin' his mum. Loving another man hadn't ever really crossed my mind, but the notion didn't strike me as anything much different than loving a woman. Just a little tougher. Rougher around the edges. It wasn't something we could keep out in the open. That sort of thing could be detrimental to the team if word got to the wrong ears. But that didn't bother me, either. Not like I didn't know how to keep secrets. I traced my fingers along Max's face, searching the lines in his jaw and cheeks and neck, learning and memorizing all the little details of his skin. We could do it.

 

His eyes flickered open.

 

“Mornin', sleepin' beauty.” I smiled at him and decided to let my fingers rest on his ear.

 

“Mornin', prince charmin'.” He yawned and nudged my hand away. “Don't touch my ears.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Feels funny.”

 

“Oh yeah? How so?” I grabbed his earlobes and pulled on them playfully.

 

“Snipes, quit. It ain't good-funny.” He frowned.

 

“Well where can I touch ya then, hm?” I raised an eyebrow at him and drug my fingertips down his jaw. His stubble on my skin was very different than I was used to, but nice. And then I immediately regretted the comment I made. I always was way too frisky when I first woke up.

 

Scout's face turned bright red. “I- um... I don't...You can... uh..”

 

“Relax, mate. I was yankin' yer chain.”

 

“Oh... okay.”

 

“You thought I was serious?”

 

“Maybe? It's early, alright?”

 

“What if I was?”

 

“Were you?”

 

“Probably not.” Bullshit. I was.

 

We were quiet for a few moments. And then he spoke up.

 

“Wil?”

 

“Yeah, Max?”

 

“Whattya think of me?”

 

“Didn't I answer this already?”

 

“What about... us?”

 

That word. That word meant more in my book and anything else. It was a binding word that was beautiful and terrible and meant so much more than the simplicity it initially implied. More than “I love you”, more than “I do”, more than “forever.” _Us_ meant there was no turning back. If there's _us_ , there can only ever be one of two things. _Us_ or _used-to-be-us._ Once you go _us,_ you can never revert back to who you were before _us._ You'll always be different. Your life will change forever. I thought about that for a minute. What Max and I could be as _us._ It could ruin our friendship. It could break my heart. It could shatter his. In this war, it could get us killed. But, it could be just what I need. Just what _we_ need. It could be perfect. If nothing else, it was worth the risk.

 

“ _Us?_ ”

 

“Yeah, us.”

 

“What do you want between us, Max?”

 

“As much love and as little space as you'll let me have.”

 

Clever. He can be suave with his words when he wants to.

 

“I can try that.” I smirked at him.

 

“Nothin' right now. We can... take it slow. You know?” His face was red again.

 

“Sure ever dated before?”

 

“Not really. Handful of girls in school. None of 'em fought by my side in a war. None of 'em stood up for me or really cared for me. And when push came to shove, none of 'em really loved me.”

 

“They're missin' out.”

 

“So are all the hot Australian babes.”

 

“The population of women in my country that could tolerate a consistent smell of piss and were comfortable with making love in a camper van went extinct when Laura died.” I smiled.

 

“I don't mind vans. I mean, I was always told to stay away from the ones with candy. But ma never said anything about the ones promising sex.”

 

“I'm sure she figured that was implied.”

 

“So what about us?”

 

There he goes again. Changing the subject and using that word.

 

“Sure, Max.”

 

“Sure, what?”

 

“Let's try it.”

 

**_Scout_ **

 

“What, really?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

 

“Why not? No reason not to. I'm certainly capable of being in a relationship. If you can put up with me, I'd be glad to have you.” He made it sound like a business agreement.

 

I looked at him closely. His eyes were glued to mine. I stood up and folded the blanket and hung it over the chair. He watched me the whole time. I propped myself up on his bed and decided to needed to make sure he was being serious. A big part of me was real skeptical. But a bigger part wanted to crawl into his lap and melt. 

 

I grabbed his hands in mine. “Snipes, you know what you're saying right? You feelin' okay, pal? Just last night you were sayin' how I couldn't ever be a replacement for your girl. Did Doc fill you up with too many drugs?”

 

“Nah, Scout. Just no reason to keep holdin' on to Laura like she's still here. You can't replace her, but you don't haf'ta.”

 

“Me. You're  _okay_ with being in a  _relationship_ . With  _me_ ?”

 

“Just keep it hush-hush, awlright? If we weren't in the midst of a war, I wouldn't give a rat's ass who knew about us, but here, romance is a liability.”

 

“So... you mean it? You'll give me a chance?”

 

“How many times and ways have I got'ta say yes, Max?”

 

“Until it sinks in.”

 

“Fine.” He wrapped his arms around me and put his lips to my ear and he whispered so quietly I could barely hear him, “Yes.” His warm breath on my ear sent chills down my spine. He touched my hand. “Sunk in now, Max?” His voice vibrated off the nape of my neck.

 

“Yeah.” I ducked into his bare shoulder and let his soft, tan skin hide the red in my face. Being with Wil was great in theory. But I wasn't sure I was ready for it in practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. Comments are loved. I'll reply to every one.


	4. Home Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this one is pretty Sniper-centric with a good helping of my Pyro (who has a fiction of his own coming up soon). This one's also pretty slow. Don't worry, the next chapter is action based. And in case you couldn't tell, this romance thing is taking it's sweet time. This will be a big fic. I'm in it for the long haul. (:
> 
> Songs for this one:
> 
> Nightvision (Extended) by Daft Punk  
> 18th Floor Balcony by Blue October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I had to change something about Pyro's part... because I suck at knowing my own story and I dug myself into a plothole. So... yeah. Nothing major, but still... lol

**Scout**

 

Everything was great. Perfect. It took some time for Sniper to warm up to me. But that's fine. I spent most of my off time with him. And since we started keeping an eye out for each other during fights, we starting working on strategies together, teaming up, ya know? Watchin' out for each other. I'd lead enemies into his range as long as he kept my back otherwise.

 

Then we started helping out Astor, not that he really needed any help. Astor's our Spy. He's completely stark blind. How he even got accepted into BLU to fight in a war with that kind of handicap, I'll never know. But I guess it has something to do with how well he can hear. By this point, the war has been going on for like... a hundred years or some shit; And old Redmond and Blutarch started gettin' desperate to find men to fight with the qualifications they wanted. They're so picky. I think Astor was like... the top secret agent spy asshole in France for a long time or at least really good. He can't see, but he can hear better than anything else. But he still had some trouble sometimes when the battlefield was especially loud. So Snipes and I started helping him out. Leading enemies away from him so he could do his work without too many loud distractions. Astor and the RED Spy were at odds with each other almost as much as Snipes and the RED Sniper, Baz, were.

 

Speaking of that mad fucker, I found out Doc took his body into his lab and we haven't seen much of the Doc since. Said it was for 'science.' My ass! The shrink probably gets off to dissecting dead people. God forbid you need a tooth pulled. He'd keep you under for an extra three hours and you'd wake up with scars you don't remember havin' before and an unshakable feelin' that you've been violated in some horrible way but you'll never know how until you realize at the next physical that half your organs were replaced with monkey parts. I think all Medics are that way though. I heard the RED Scout ended up with a pigeon in his stomach one time.

 

Anyways, things with me and Snipes were great. We spent a lot of time together. He never brought up Laura anymore, and I wasn't about to try to touch that subject. I figure if he wants to talk, he will. I guess I'm the opposite. I never really talk when I need to. But I guess nothin's ever really wrong. The only thing I never liked talking about was bein' gay. And now that I've got Snipes, it's a topic that don't need discussin'. We went on, slow and steady, for a long time. Nothin' more than sometimes cuddlin' in his new perch. (Engineer and Solly and even Pyro and Heavy helped us build him a new one the weekend after Baz and the RED Pyro busted it up). Sometimes he'd kiss my head, right on the top, and ruffle up my hair and rub my side. I didn't really know how to be physical with another guy, so most of the time, if I did anything back, I just held his hand or traced the veins in his arms with my fingers. Sometimes we were just fine with not bein' lovey at all. Sometimes we just acted like old pals. And that's cool too.

 

For probably a couple of months it was like that. Then one day, Wil got a letter in the mail. I think that was the turning point for us.

 

**Sniper**

 

It was November 8th. Everybody was gettin' so excited for Thanksgivin' 'cause it looked like we might get some leave time to go see family. Not that I celebrated the holiday. S'an American thing. But Astor, Doc, Heavy and I were still pleased as peaches at the prospect of time off, even if we didn't recognize the day. Demo probably was too, but he was always to drunk and bitter to really say much on the matter of home. 'Home,' I found out, meant a lot of things to Scout. He wanted to see his mum bad. But he wasn't too keen on seeing his brothers or possibly running into the RED Spy, as he'd no doubt be paying a visit or two to his puhteet-show-flur or whatever. He'd told me he even considered just staying here at Teufort instead of going home. I talked him out of that one real quick. Family is important, especially when you're young like him.

 

Anyways, this particular evening, November 8th, we had a mail call. Everybody sat around the folding card table that served as a dining table in the kitchen while Pyro passed out the mail. He loved giving everybody their mail and nobody argued. He handed everyone their letters with a special kind of enthusiasm I'd only ever seen in Pyro and it never failed to amaze me how someone could look so happy when you couldn't even see their face. If any of us got a package, he got especially excited and passed those out last.

 

That evening, he handed out letters to Astor, Doc, and Heavy. Even Solly and Demo got mail, which was a pretty rare occurrence. I waited for my usual letter from mum. Usually, I got a hefty envelope, stuffed to the brim with pages of my sweet mum's writing about how Dad is doing and what's been happenin' in the news in Australia. This time, Pyro came to me and gave me the saddest look and guy in a gas mask could muster. He handed me a small yellow envelope with 'URGENT' in big red letters stamped on it. Nothing else. No letters from Mum. There was only a handful of reasons anybody got one of these letters. All of them were bad.

 

Everyone stopped reading their mail and looked at me. Scout looked like he wanted to take the letter and beat the shit out of it. They all seemed to be waiting for me to open it. I waved a hand at them, telling them to let it go and that I'd read it later. That was sort of a thing that our team did that none of the others ever had. We've all been a lot closer as friends and teammates than any of the other teams had ever been. That's why most of us knew each others' real names. And part of that is because we always read our Urgent letters out loud. They usually meant someone in our family died, or something big happened in our hometown, or sometimes it was medical information saying that one of us had a major medical problem. So when something big happened in our lives, the whole team knew about it. And it was unspoken rule to look out for anyone who'd just gotten an Urgent letter, no matter the news, and make sure they were doing okay. Pyro was the exception to the read-out-loud rule, but only because he's never received an Urgent letter, so we never had to address the matter. Come to think of it, he'd never received any mail at all. Maybe that's why he liked handing it out to everyone else.

 

Scout got mail as well. A letter from his mum and a small package he'd said was from his oldest brother. It was a handful packs of the new series of baseball cards out. Once everyone finished with their mail, they all turned back to me. Waiting.

 

I figured it was now or never. I only ever got an Urgent letter one other time. It was to tell me my Grandad died. Nothing too major. He died in his sleep just outta oldness. Shook me up a little with memories of home, but I was fine in a day or two.

 

I looked close at the little yellow envelope and I noticed my hands were shaking a little. All my grandparents were dead now, so it wasn't news about them. That leaves only two relatives and my old dog, which I hardly think would warrant an Urgent letter upon death. I tried to tell myself that it was probably just some big news regarding the country. Maybe some big natural disaster or something. I felt my thumbs slowly peel up the lip of the envelope. Scout was over my shoulder. I hadn't noticed him move from his spot, but now it was nice to have someone next to me. He put his hand on my back. I pulled the envelope open and removed the letter, unfolding it carefully. And I started reading.

 

 

 

_'Mr. Wil Dacey,_

 

_It is with our deepest regrets that the Builder's League United Human Resources Department deliver this truly unfortunate news of your remaining family in Broome, Australia._

 

_On the evening of November 6 th, a house fire began at you father's estate. Unfortunately, fire crews could not reach the home in time to salvage the building and it collapsed shortly after their arrival._

 

_Rescue crews found two people, confirmed dead on the scene, in the debris of the home. Dental records later identified both bodies as those of Mr. Harrison Dacey and Mrs. Lottie Dacey. The bodies of the deceased are being held until burial arrangements can be made by the next of kin._

 

_The cause of the fire is being investigated, but the current reports indicate it was not an act of arson and likely was an electrical fire._

 

_During Thanksgiving leave, you may handle the arrangements as you see fit and visit any family you may have._

 

_With deepest condolences,_

_BLU Human Resources Department'_

 

By the end of the letter my tongue felt like sandpaper and I wanted to vomit. I'm not sure if nobody was saying anything or my mind was blocking them out. Mum and Dad. Gone. Forever. That just wasn't right. Surely there'd been a mistake. There's a million Dacey families out there. And Harrison and Lottie weren't terribly uncommon names. Dental records can get mixed up. There'd obviously been a mistake. I felt Max squeeze my shoulder. I looked up from the letter for the first time and looked around at all the faces staring at me. Out of everybody here, I was the closest to my parents. And the team knew it.

 

The looks of shock and sadness on their faces did nothing for the knot in my stomach crawling up to my throat. Doc looked at me with a strange frown and shook his head. Truckie looked like he might cry himself. Heavy sort of just gave me a hug with his eyes. I think he wanted to give me a real hug, but I really didn't need to be nursing broken ribs while planning my parents' funeral. Astor managed to look me straight in the eyes. I don't know how he did it, being blind, but his clear blue eyes caught mine dead on and he mouthed something at me. 'I am so sorry.' Soldier's expression didn't seem to have changed much. He stood from his seat, walked over to me and gave me a solid salute and without a word, he patted my shoulder and walked out of the room. Demo got up next, sat his half-drunk bottle of whiskey in front of me and walked out just as wordlessly as Solly. I wasn't a big drinker, but the gesture was as nice as anyone could get from Demo. Then, slowly, everybody else got up and left. All but Pyro and Scout. None of the others said a word. I think because, when any of the others got news like that, we all knew there were no words to say.

 

I just sat in my chair and read the letter over and over. There had to be a mistake. Scout knelt down by me and put his hand on mine. I guess he just didn't mind if Pyro saw.

 

“I'll be in the perch.” He said quietly, “Come up when you're ready.” And with that he left, too. Now it was just me and Pyro. I looked down at the letter again. And I felt tears well up in my eyes and they dropped over my cheeks and onto the paper.

 

“Aw, Mum... I-... I'm so sorry...” I felt quiet words force themselves out of my throat.

 

I heard Pyro get up from his chair across the table. He pulled the one next to me out and sat down. He took off he gloves one at a time, rolled up his sleeves and took of his mask, setting it beside him on the table. I looked up at him and met his eyes directly for the first time. I wondered, for a moment, how many of the others had seen him like this.

 

His eyes were bright, brilliant green. He had brownish-red messy hair and a dark complexion. He kept a full beard across his jaw and chin but he was meticulously shaven otherwise. He had burns all over his hands and arms, but he looked remarkably clean. I'm not sure what I was expecting him to look like under the suit, but it certainly wasn't anything normal. But that's what he was. Remarkably normal. He locked his eyes on mine and put his calloused hand on my arm.

 

“Are you okay, Sniper?” His voice was smooth and soft and sounded nice.

 

“Ah will be. You can-” I looked his face over. Shame he kept to himself so much. He wasn't bad lookin' by any standards. “You can call me Wil, Ah don't moind.”

 

“Casey Orre. You can call me Casey if you'd like.”

 

“You don't have to stay here, Casey. Ah'll be awlroight.”

 

“I want to.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“May I show you something, Wil?”

 

“Sure.” I didn't really want to do anything at the moment. I wanted to just see my Mum and Dad. Even if I could just hear my dad reprimand me for my choice of profession that would be fine. But when Casey stood up and started walking out, I got up, folded the letter into my pocket, and followed him.

 

He lead me out to the shed in the back of the base that we all knew was his quarters. He opened the door to the shed and set his mask and gloves just inside. He motioned for me to take a seat on the small, metal frame bed. I sat down. He took his jacket off and hung it on a hook by his bath robe. He pulled his footlocker out from under his bed and opened the lid. Inside was a handful of things you'd expect. Extra boots, some clothes, but most notably there was a stack of papers tied together by a thin string. The majority of them were yellow envelopes with bold red letters. He pulled the stack out and sat down beside me on the bed and untied the string.

 

“S'at your mail?”

 

“Yes. I take it out of the mail bag before I deliver everyone else's.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I can't read them in front of everyone.”

 

“Hell, we won't judge ya, mumbles. Ya see what I just read.” I sniffed and felt more tears on their way.

 

“No, I mean, I can't. I can't read.”

 

“You're illiterate?”

 

“Mostly. I can read simple things. I can spell my name and I know the names of my family members and some basic things. Enough that no one can tell.”

 

“Sorry mate, I had no idea.”

 

“That's the point. I keep my letters and bring them here. And when he gets the chance, Engineer comes over and reads my letters to me.” He put the stack of letters on my lap.

 

“Why are so many of them Urgent letters?” Each corner of yellow that poked out from the stack made my heart break a little more. How many relatives had he lost? He pulled out all of the yellow letters from the stack, careful to keep them in order. Then he stowed all the plain white envelopes back in the footlocker and handed me the first yellow envelope.

 

“Because like Scout, I left behind a lot of family and friends.” I opened up the envelope and read the letter carefully.

 

“That's the first Urgent letter I ever received here. It was to tell me my father had been killed in a drive by shooting.” I looked at him closely. There was sadness in his eyes, but a weak smile on his face. “I remember all of the Urgent letters. I memorize which one is which by the names of the relatives they're about.”

 

He went through each one of the yellow envelopes. Father, a handful of siblings, multiple friends, the last one being his mother, a grand total of 17 people. People he loved. All gone. He told me about each and every one. Who they were, how they died. And none of them were accidents. They were all killed, murdered. So many people.

 

“So where do you go when we go on leave?”

 

“Back to my home in Nevada for one, maybe two days. Pay my respects to the dead and then I come back here. No reason to stay when I haven't got a home.”

 

“Didn't see a letter for a spouse or girlfriend. Surely you got a loving lady to go home to.”

 

“No. I wouldn't dare risk it.” He frowned slightly. “Besides, I'm not the type that's easy to love.”

 

“Wot makes you say that?”

 

“Sniper, I burn things.”

 

“So?”

 

“Fire-starting lunatics aren't exactly high on the list of date-ability of most women.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

We were silent for a while. I didn't want to be here anymore. I just wanted to be with my parents. I should have called them more often. I should have told Dad I loved him more often. So many things I wanna say to them both and I can't. And now I have to arrange their funerals. I looked at Casey and wondered how many funerals he had planned in the time were were here.

 

“How do you do it, Casey? How do you handle so much death?”

 

“I mourn. Whenever I need to, I cry, I scream; Sometimes, I'll get so upset on the battlefield and I'll take out all of my sadness and anger on the other team; I pretend they're the bastards that killed my family.”

 

“Do you know who did it?”

 

“I have a good guess.” He sighed, “Back in Nevada, my family was a major part of a gang of sorts. Sort of like the Mafia. When I left, I started sending just about all of my paycheck back home. There was enough money on a regular basis to keep the family well and extra to finance new weapons and supplies for the gang. This didn't go over well with another gang that's been our rival for years. They likely put a mass hit on everyone I loved. My family is all dead and our gang is dissolved now, thanks to me.”

 

“No offense mate, but you don't strike me as the gangster type.”

 

“I'm not. I've never had killer in my blood. I was pretty much useless to the family until I accepted this job. And I could only really handle it here because the pay was so nice and the people I killed always respawned. Now, I don't care. Knowing my family is dead and who killed them, I couldn't care less if the people I kill out here ever came back. I wish I was that way about the people who killed my family. Every time I go home, I tell myself that I'll get revenge on them, but I never do. Once I'm back on the plot of my old home, I just cry.”

 

I didn't really know what to say. So I just sat there quietly.

 

“Sniper, when you go back home this time,” He was tearing up and his voice cracked a little. “Just mourn. If you find out that the fire wasn't an accident, please don't harbor hatred like I do. I set fires to set me free. Don't be like that. Please just know they'll get what's coming to them and that your parents were good, wonderful people. They would want you to handle their deaths with the same grace and stride you handle your gun. So please, just mourn. Never hate. Please, Wil?”

 

I thought about that for a moment. “O'Course, Casey. I doubt it was anyone's fault, anyways. They said it looked like an electrical fire.” I stood up, and suddenly I felt so old. Like I'd aged 50 years in the past 20 minutes.

 

“You should go see Scout. He's waiting for you.”

 

“So you figured it out, then?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Me and Scout?”

 

“You two are very close, that is obvious.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“To me, it is. Are you more than that?”

 

“Sort of.”

 

“Then,” he got very quiet, “You should definitely go see him. I'm sure he is worried.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“If you ever want to talk, Sniper,” He smiled at me and rubbed his eyes, “I am always here.”

 

Something in my heart eased up and I sighed. “Same to you, mate. Thank you.”

 

 

**Scout**

 

I waited up in the perch for a long time for Snipes. Part of me really wanted to go find him and make sure he was okay. But I told him I'd wait here.

 

Eventually, I heard heavy footsteps on the ladder and, after a moment, Wil showed up in the doorway. He looked tired and sad, but he still looked like himself. I stood up from the table and gave him a long hug. It took a minute, but eventually, he returned it and ducked his face into my neck.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Ah will be.”

 

“Anything I can do?”

 

“Just stay. You can stay the night up here, if you'd like. Ah don't feel loike goin' back to the van, an' Ah'd really loike it if you'd stay here with me.” I could tell he was torn up. His accent was really thick.

 

“Sure.” I'd never spent the night with Snipes before. We always went our separate ways at the end of the day. He'd go to his van and I'd go to my room and that was that. But now I guess we were going to spend the night together.

 

It was Thursday. We had one more day of fighting before the weekend. Sniper let me run back to my room to get my alarm clock so we'd be up on time. We both skipped out on dinner and just stayed up in the perch and talked. He told me about his parents and about his life back in Australia. He told me about his dog, an old Border Collie named Charlie. He said he didn't know what would happen to the dog or if it was even still alive. I told him I was sure he was fine 'cause that seemed to be the thing to say.

 

We laid on the floor of the perch side by side and talked for a long time and shared stories about when we were kids and then, in between conversations, he stopped and looked at me.

 

“Decided wot you'll do for leave?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Would you spend the first half with me? I don't want to go back there alone. Then you can spend the other half and Thanksgiving back home.”

 

“You want me to go to Australia with you?”

 

“For just a few days, not long. Just long enough to get Mum and Dad buried and what's left of the house taken care of.”

 

“Sure, I'll go. But only on one condition.”

 

“Wot?”

 

“You'll come home with me for Christmas.”

 

“Wot for?”

 

“Well, it's not like you'll have much to go home to. I don't want you to spend it alone. And I want Ma to meet you.”

 

“Wot about your brothers?”

 

“Fuck 'em. They'll just learn to accept me.”

 

He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. Then he put his arm around me and pulled me close and kissed my temple.

 

“Of course I'll go home with ya.”

 

“Really?” I felt my face go red, thinking about how badly I wanted to kiss him, love him, comfort him. But I felt so weak beside him. He's bigger and stronger than me; What could I do for him?

 

“I'd love to.”

 

“I love you.”

 

The words had slipped out before I could stop them and I knew at that moment I must have looked like the biggest pussy deer in the headlights there ever was. But Wil just looked at me and smiled and leaned over me and put his hand on my chest, right over my heart.

 

“I know ya do. I...” He looked like he was tearing up. “I love ya too, I do. I'm just- so, so upset roight now, I just-”

 

I kissed him. I put my hand behind his head and kissed him hard, right on the lips and it was really kind of sad. I felt him gasp but then he softened up a little and even kissed me back. But he was already crying and his tears rolled off his cheeks and on to mine. His lips were soft and warm and the little bit of stubble on his chin and face caught on mine and the whole thing was so amazing. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he broke the kiss and buried his face into my shoulder and I heard him choke back sobs.

 

“Please,” his voice was hoarse. “Please don't leave me. I love ya, Max. I love ya an' I can't lose ya. Not loike I did Laura. Not loike Mum an' Dad. Yer awl I got, Max. I love ya.”

 

I held on to him tight and we must have looked pretty strange laying there in the floor like that. “Never, Wil. I'll never leave. I'm right here for ya, ya crybaby.”

 

“Shut up. I hate you seein' me loike this.”

 

“I ain't lookin'.”


	5. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A handful of action and some fluff and we learn more about Scout's home life! Get comfy. This is a long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK this is a long chapter. I did not expect to write this much.
> 
> Feedback would be lovely, btw.
> 
> Songs for this section:
> 
> "Run On" and "Whispering Wind" both by Moby.

**Scout**

 

We woke up to the alarm clock and we were all tangled up in each other. We had brought a couple blankets and pillows up to the perch and stripped down to our boxers and curled up in the floor together and he cried a while more and I can't blame him. His ma was dead. And his dad, too, but I don't think they were on such good'a terms. I never really met my dad, so I don't have much of an opinion.

 

But when he was done, he held me real close and buried his stubbly face into my neck and kissed behind my ears and told me 'thank you' for keepin' him company, but I hardly see how he needs to thank me for that. I loved it; His warm breath on my neck and his big rough hands on my belly and _God,_ his skin felt so good on mine. Like magic but better and less imaginary. His touch made me shudder and his big blue eyes were always on me. He was always making sure everything felt perfect, and it always did.

 

When we woke up, Wil tapped the alarm clock off and just sort of looked at me for a minute.

 

“Sleep okay?” His hand was on my waist and I was curled up with my nose in the side of his chest. His skin smelled like gunpowder and soap and the lightest touch of cheap cologne.

 

“Sure, you?”

 

“Well enough.”

 

“S'nice wakin' up like this. Even if we are just goin' out to fight.”

 

“We could use your room. Or the van. Pick yer poison, mate.”

 

“I don't really care. S'long as-” I wasn't used to words like this comin' outta me the way they were, “as long as I'm with you...”

 

He smiled at me. “Sure thing.”

 

We got dressed silently and made our way down to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. Pyro had waffles made. Doc and Spy and Engie were all still at the table. The dishes in the sink said Heavy and Demo and Solly had been and gone. Snipes and I sat down at the table and Engie gave me a look like he knew I knew he knew something; Like we had some kind of silly conversation with our eyes about how he needed to mind his own business, but he looked back at me with something like _'you're the one who asked for advice'._ 'Course we didn't actually say anything.

 

Pyro brought fresh waffles over and plopped them on our plates and sat down with us, but he didn't eat anything. That would require him to take off his mask. And he wouldn't have that, now would he? We ate pretty quick and nobody said much. Astor was the one to break the silence. He looked up at Snipes s'best he could since he's blind and frowned.

 

“ 'Ow are you fairing, mon ami?”

 

“M'awlroight, Spook, thanks.”

 

“You will let us know if you need anything, non?”

 

“ 'Course I will. Don't worry, mate. I'll be on my game today if you will, awlroight?”

 

“But of course.”

 

“Scout an' I'll do what we can for ya.”

 

“Bushman, _please._ Don't go out of your way. I will be fine.” He said it real nice-like, with a little smile that meant he didn't _need_ the help, but he sure as hell wouldn't turn it down. Our Spy was an odd one. He and Snipes weren't best friends or anything, but they got along great all things considered.

 

“Spah's right though, Wil.” Engie smiled at him. “We're around if ya need a word.”

 

“Oi know, mate. S'foine, really. Don't need ya wanka's blubberin' on about me an' my mum loik yer my own kin. We gotta get out there and foight.” His accent was thickening up and his face was turning rigid and I think that tipped everyone off to leave him alone. I was surprised Doc didn't have anything to say. Death was an “afrodesiack” for him, whatever kind of ghetto-ass drug that was. Maybe Rummie knows something about those.

 

We finished our waffles and went out to the resupply room and suited up and waited for the signal to go.

 

Today was another fun-filled round of stealing briefcases. Rumors had been going around that we were getting ready to get shipped somewhere far off, though.

 

“...GET GOING!”

 

The announcer's voice was loud and annoying as always. I bolted off with a quick glance back to see Snipes on his way up to the upper level of the battlements.

 

A couple of briefcases in and I was doing great! Not one death yet! Solly rockets and Demo bombs as far as the eye could see. Good thing the eye never caught sight of me! (Heh, I'm a poet now I guess.) I saw Snipes a handful of times, always scoped in or slashing about with his knife. Once I saw that fuckin' spy nab him while he was scoped. It made my blood boil every time, but there was nothing I could do about it. On my way across the bridge with my third batch of intel, I glanced down and saw Astor and the RED Spy in a tussle.

 

“Yo, Spooky! Need some help?”

 

“Ah, Scout, call the hawk, would you?” He called back to me in between shots at the Spy.

 

“Can do. Nine o'clock in 15?”

 

“Oui, that'll do.”

 

I quickly dropped the briefcase off in our intel room and hoofed it back up to Snipes.

 

“Nine in five on Spy, got it?” I said quietly as I rushed past him.

 

“Lockin' in now. Roight-o, mate.”

 

I jumped down on to the roof of the bridge just in time to see a certain RED Spy's head get blown off, exactly 15 seconds after Astor had asked and in exactly the nine o'clock position from where he had been standing. I ain't one to do much in the way'a plannin' but I can appreciate when one comes together perfectly. I glanced up at Snipes. He gave me a tip of his hat.

 

“My thanks to ze Bushman and you, mon ami.” Astor must have heard me on the roof.

 

“No probs, Spooky.” I gave him a two-finger salute even though I knew he couldn't see it and ran off for more intelligence.

 

I sidestepped a sentry, waltzed into the intel room like I was invited for Sunday dinner by the grand-intel-poobah, snatched up the briefcase and high-tailed it out of there. Man, these RED goofballs were really slacking today. Then it occurred to me that their Sniper and Pyro replacements might not have arrived yet. Oh well. Good riddance. Baz was the highest form of douchebag and the RED Pyro just wasn't right. I mean, ours isn't quite proper either, but hell, at least he seems happy sometimes. That RED Pyro had genocidal-slaughter-martyr just in he way he moved.

 

I decided to take the low road this time, for variety's sake (spice'a life, ya know?) and sloshed through the dirty water under the bridge. The RED Spy's headless body was still floatin' around, but Astor had made himself scarce. I went through the first half of the tunnel, made the turn and- WHAM!

 

RED Scout, right in my face.

 

“Oi, the hell are ya doin' ya sorry excuse for a scout?” That alone told me I'd been around Snipes way too much for my own good. Since when did I say “oi?”

 

“Fuck you! Least my ma ain't bangin' the enemy spy.” He had our intel on his back. Well fuck this. I wasn't gonna put up with his shit, let him take the intel, AND dog my ma. I pulled out my bat.

 

“You wanna go, wise ass?” I twirled the tip of my bat in his face.

 

“I got all day, chucklenuts.” He pulled out his own bat. Not a dent in it. This guy couldn't hit the barn side of a broad. Easy out.

 

“Catch me.” I winked, tapped his cheek with my bat and ran back the way I came. He chased me down, close on my heels, through the water and under the bridge. I caught one of the legs of the bridge, climbed up it and dropped down on top of him, smashing my bat in his face while he was looking up trying to figure out where I went. We wrestled in the water for a while and all I could think about was trying to make a punch find its mark. Next thing I knew, he had his hands around my neck. When I tried to gasp for air, he got on top of me, put one knee on my chest and pushed me under the water. I choked on the nasty, slimy sewage. This was NOT a nice way to go.

 

I curled my legs up and managed to get my feet under his belly and kicked him backwards. He stumbled but didn't fall, but it gave me enough time to stand up and grab my bat, only it was his.

 

I rubbed my neck and looked at his bat for a second. Silver with red detailing on the handle. Not a single scratch or dent. I caught his eyes. “Whattaya say we break this shiny bad boy in, huh?” He had my bat in his hand and for a split second I felt really violated. That was MY bat. My splintered wooden beauty of a bat in that scumbag's hand. I charged him. He was still a little disoriented so my swing hit him square in the head with a loud 'PHUNNK.' He swung around and everything slowed down. In what felt like an hour, he flung my own bat upwards toward me as I turned sideways off the momentum of hitting him. I saw the wood of my bad, the blood spattered on it, and then a loud, sick, crack and the worst pain I'd ever felt in my life. He'd hit me in the eyes, across my nose. I suddenly got extremely dizzy, but I managed to grab his collar and yank him out of the water.

 

“Fucking, _asshole!_ Hittin' me with my own goddamned bat? I'll fucking go home and bang yer mom _myself_ for getting' my own blood on my bat!” I was so dizzy and I felt blood run down my face. It pooled a little under my eyes and the pain made me want to cry. But I shook that bastard around and pulled out my scattergun. I pointed it straight at his head and put my finger on the trigger. He didn't say a word. Just looked at me kind of distantly. Then his head was gone.

 

I looked up to see a bunch of Wils fading in and out from each other. He'd shot the Scout. He was down on the ground now, standing above me. The echo of the shot he'd fired wasn't even done ringing yet when he jumped down into the water after me. The world was spinning so fast. I couldn't focus on him and things started getting dark.

 

“Max, you awlroight, mate?” His voice was so distant.

 

“Kill steal! You ass-” I couldn't find my words right away, “I could've- could've handled him... myself.”

 

“Are you _okay?_ ” Persistent asshole, wasn't he?

 

“I- yeah... just, quit movin', will ya?” His form kept jumping around in my vision.

 

“I ain't movin', Max...” He sounded worried.

 

“No biggie, Wil. Respawn'll- ...get me,” I felt the words slur out of my mouth. Then water. Everywhere there was water and my head was pounding and everything was getting so dark. Sounds were loud and quiet at the same time and water filled my ears and burned my busted up face and seeped into my mouth. Respawn could fix this, right?

 

“Max? … Max!” Wil's voice was so, so far off. Then I felt his hand on my head, keeping me above the water.

 

“Max, you awlroight? _Maximilion!_ ”

 

Shit, Wil. Don't use my whole name.

 

“Doc! _Medic,_ need yer 'elp, mate-” His voice faded out.

 

There was a faint sound in the distance. It was the sound they played when we won a fight. And then nothing. I couldn't hear or see or feel jack shit. I waited for respawn, but it never came.

 

 

**Sniper**

 

I was yelling for the Doc when the victory tone went off. I held on to Max's head, trying my best to keep it out of the water without moving it around too much. He was still breathing and I couldn't figure out if I liked that or not. If he died, respawn might pick him up; but this late in the match, especially now that we were done, respawn might not get him and he could die for good. But if he didn't die, his injuries weren't going to get fixed any time soon.

 

I decided a living, breathing Scout was better than a Schrodinger's Scout that may or may not ever respawn.

 

I looked at him hard, trying to keep from holding him too tight or breaking down. His face, that clean, fresh, smiling face of his was almost unrecognizable. His nose was bleeding, inside and out, and a dark purple-green bruise had already started forming around his eyes. His cheeks were busted up and he was going to have so many scars. The wood of that bat was not kind to him. I'd spent the last two months learning that face. Now I wished I'd had kissed it more; Given it more attention and love. Just a handful more regrets to go along with the rest of them. I was setting a new record for myself. But I would not lose him. I lost Laura and Mum and Dad, but I would _not_ lose Max.

 

Doc finally showed up.

 

“Ze match is over. Vat could you possibly ne-... oh...” He cut himself off when he caught sight of Scout. “Herr Heavy! Bring ze stretcher!”

 

“S'he awlroight, Doc?”

 

“Vell, he's not dead yet.”

 

“Oi can see that.”

 

“Ve vill see.”

 

Heavy showed up with the stretcher. Medic took one side and motioned for me to take the other, but I still had Scout. Heavy took care of that for me. He gave me a stern, but warm look and said, “Eet is okay, tall man. Leetle Scout vill be safe in my hands. I vill not harm him.”

 

“Oi trust ya, Heavy.”

 

“Take the stretcher vith doktor. I vill put him on it.”

 

“Sure,” and with that, Heavy carefully, much more carefully than I thought possible for him, put his hands under Scout, making sure one was under his head, and, with more grace and tact than I'd ever seen him have, gently laid the boy on the stretcher. Doc and I carried him back through our half of Teufort, Heavy close behind. Along the way, we garnered a few worried looks from the others.

 

“What is happening?” I heard Astor ask Engie.

 

“Looks like our Little Buddy got busted up bad at the tail end of things. Doc and Sniper and Heavy are toting him to the infirmary.” Engineer said back to him.

 

“What sort of 'busted up' are we talking about here, Labourer?”

 

“Looks s'though he took a hard beating to the face... I think he was tumblin' with the other Scout earlier. Could've been him.”

 

I looked back at them as we passed. “C'mon, Truckie. Might need ya.”

 

Engineer followed me and the others into the infirmary. We set Scout on one of the beds and, once he had given Heavy and Engineer assignments to work on for Scout, Medic shooed me out.

 

“Doc, don't you go replacin' any of his organs. You just fix up his face and make sure he's awlroight, you hear me, ya quack?”

 

“Raus, Herr Sniper. I won't do anything rash, I assure you.”

 

And with that I was sent out to the waiting room. Spy was already there, as was Pyro. I hadn't even seen Solly and Demo since the match was over. They were likely already off to the showers. Spy gestured towards me, or what he thought was me.

 

“ 'Ow is he, Sniper?” He said stoicly. I put my hand on his shoulder to show him where I was and faced him.

 

“He'll be awlroight, I think. He's a strong boy.”

 

“Ze two of you are... close?”

 

“Sort of...” Spy now, too? Were we that obvious?

 

“You'll keep me informed, non?”

 

“Sure.” My eyes wandered around. It was hard to look a blind man in the eyes knowing he couldn't really return the gesture.

 

“And listen, mon ami,” I looked back up at his face. It was stern, but softer than normal. “Take care of him. Scout, he does not know love well. I trust you will show him ze good side of romance. You are a caring man, albeit disgusting in certain habits. So do right by him, oui?”

 

I thought for a moment. How did he know so much about Max's past? And how did he find out about us? I guess it didn't matter now. “ 'Course, Spook. I'd never think of treatin' him any way other than the best I know how.”

 

“Bon.” And with that, Astor turned on his heel, lit a cigarette, and left the room.

 

I took a seat across the room from Pyro and sighed. There was a ridiculous weight on my chest and I wanted nothing more than to see Max just burst through that door with his big goofy grin and tell me he was just fine; Just a scratch was all. I ached to see him well and smiling.

 

 

It was a long time before Max woke up. Doc wrapped his eyes up and said that was all that could really be done. Heavy and Engineer had long since left to take showers and relax elsewhere.

 

When he finally did wake up, Max was a wreck.

 

“Ugh, the fuck happened?” He leaned up from his bed and turned to look at me, but couldn't. “Why're my eyes wrapped up? Why can't I see, Doc?” His voice was shaky and frantic. I took his hand and held it tight.

 

“Max calm down. You'll be awlroight.”

 

“What's wrong, Wil? Why can't I see?” He tried to wrench his hand from mine, by I wouldn't let him go.

 

“Yer eyes got busted up, Max. They'll be awlroight. Just give it time.”

 

“Whattaya mean _busted up_?”

 

This time, Medic interjected. “Herr Scout, please calm down and I vill explain vhat happened.” That seemed to make him hush for a minute. “When ze RED Scout hit you vith ze bat-”

 

“ _My_ bat.”

 

Doc rolled his eyes. “... _your_ bat, he broke your nose and caused severe bruising in your eyes. There was also some hemorrhaging behind your eye sockets. Zis likely caused some permanent damage to your vision. You eyes can be unwrapped in a couple of hours, but once zhey are, you vill need to have an eye exam to determine how extensive ze damage is.”

 

“Damage...? To my vision? Like what, I'm gonna have to take blind guy lessons from Spooky? I gotta see, Doc! I gotta fight!”

 

“Though it is a possibility, I doubt you vill be completely blind. You vill, however, probably need glasses.”

 

“ _Glasses?_ Fuck, just put me on crutches for the rest of my life! I can't fight with glasses!”

 

“I fight handily vith glasses, as does Herr Sniper.”

 

“S'true, Max. They're prescription.” I tipped my glasses to him, and then remembered he couldn't see, so instead I rubbed circles on the top of his hand with my thumb.

 

“Yeah but Doc, you camp behind Fatty all the time. You're hardly ever actually fightin'. And Snipes, you're always miles away from the action. I get up close and personal. I'm always in the fray! I gotta be at the top of my game! I can't do that if I got glasses to worry about.”

 

“You'll do fine, Scout. You're great at adapting to different fighting situations.” I sighed. He was really taking this hard.

 

“You're one to talk. How in the hell did you get a sniping job with bad eyes?”

 

“I'm farsighted, Max. I see long distances just fine. But without glasses, I couldn't read books or fight hand-to-hand or even talk to people unless I wanted to talk to a faceless blur all the time.”

 

“I vill be back in about two hours to remove your bandages, Herr Scout.” And with that, Doc left, the door swinging shut behind him.

 

“I can't wear glasses, Wil.” Max said quietly. “I just can't. I'll be useless. And I'll look ridiculous.”

 

“Gee, _thanks_ , mate.”

 

“Not you. You pull it off. You... look good. I'll look so dumb.”

 

“Max,” I got up from my chair and sat on his bed, like he did those short weeks ago when I was beaten up from the perch collapsing. “Y'awlready look fantastic. No pair of specs are gonna change that. And ya certainly won't be useless. Hell, maybe you'll do even better.”

 

“I... you think I look good?” His head dropped.

 

“Naw, mate, I make a habit of mackin' on _ugly_ young men. S'my favorite kind'a lover. _'Course_ I think ya look good, Max.”

 

He laid back down and curled up on his side with his back to me. “What's wrong, Max?” I put my hand on his shoulder, but he just jerked away.

 

“Goddamn wannabe fucked up my eyes with my own goddamn bat.” His voice was weak but hateful. He clearly was more concerned about his pride than his eyes.

 

“I'll be roight outside if you need anything, alwroight?”

 

He grunted in response. I left then and went back out into the lobby, nearly bumping into Astor.

 

“Ah, Spook! You might just be the person Max needs.”

 

“Oh? I was on my way to visit him regardless. 'Ow is he?”

 

“His vision is gonna be messed up. From hemorrhaging behind his eyes. Doc says it'll be permanent but probably not terrible. But... he'll probably need glasses and he's pretty torn up about that. Doc's got his eyes wrapped up right now.”

 

“Ah, I see.”

 

“ _Do_ you?” I smiled.

 

“ _Ha-ha_ , Jar-man. I've never heard _that one_ before.”

 

“Will ya talk to him, Astor? He's a wreck.”

 

“But of course.”

 

I decided to sit in on this. I felt a little bad for intruding on the conversation, but maybe it would give me some insight on what Max was feeling.

 

“Scout,” Astor called as he stepped through the door, “May I come in?”

 

“...sure, Spooky.” Max said after a minute. I propped myself against the wall by the door.

 

“ 'Ow are you feeling?”

 

“Shitty.”

 

“Care to explain?”

 

“How do ya do it, Spooky? How do ya put up with not seein'? I ain't had these bandages on for an hour and I'm already goin' insane.”

 

“I 'ave never known ze difference, Scout. I was blind from ze day I was born.”

 

“That's even worse! I don't see how you live this way! Literally!”

 

“I learn to see with my other senses. When you can not see, you learn to appreciate your ability to hear and feel and even taste. And having help from my teammates is always nice.” He put his hand on Scout's back and pat it softly.

 

“I guess...”

 

“For a moment, Scout, focus on what you hear. See if you can figure out what's going on around you.”

 

Astor took out his cigarette case, lit a smoke, took a long drag from it, and blew the smoke up into the ceiling.

 

“You lit a cigarette.” Max seemed to perk up.

 

“ 'Ow do you know?”

 

“I heard your case thingy... and the sound of your lighter... and now I can smell the smoke.”

 

“See? It is really a very easy skill to develop if you take ze time. Thankfully for you, you won't need to learn it. Your eyes will be fine. Glasses are not so bad when you think about how much ze truly blind miss out on. For instance, I 'ave never seen a sunrise or sunset. These things happen every day and people who see ignore it because they are normal things to see.”

 

“Yeah... I ain't looked at a sunrise in a long time. I guess you're right.”

 

Astor chuckled to himself.

 

“Hey, Spooky?”

 

“Yes, Max?”

 

“You... know about me and Snipes, don't you?”

 

“I know enough, yes.”

 

“It don't bother you?”

 

“Why should it? It is none of my concern.”

 

“Just.. do you think... D'ya think Snipes will still think I'm good-lookin' even with glasses?”

 

It just now occurred to me that Scout didn't know I was in the room. If Astor knew, he certainly wasn't letting on.

 

“Would you still find him attractive if he could no longer wear his glasses?”

 

“Sure I would. I'd have to get used to it, I guess.”

 

“Then he will only have to get used to you having them.”

 

“What about fightin'?”

 

“Your eyes are damaged. There is nothing you can do about that. Now would you rather not wear glasses and struggle seeing any and everything, or would you rather just need to adapt to a new piece of clothing?”

 

“I guess they'd be better than not seeing at all... And if you think Snipes will still think I look good... then hell, it's worth a shot.” Why was he so concerned about that? I always thought he looked great, even before I started liking him in a more-than-mate way.

 

“Maximilion?” That was the first time I'd ever heard Astor use his whole name.

 

“Yeah?” And what's more, Max didn't seem to mind. What did he and Astor have that made them so comfortable together?

 

“ 'Ow is your mother doing?”

 

“Pretty good. She's real excited about me comin' home.”

 

“ 'As she mentioned ze Spy?”

 

“Nah. I still don't think she knows I know.”

 

“And your brothers?”

 

“Hell if I know. They're so scattered. The only one I ever get to talk to is my oldest brother.”

 

“Ah. Does he know about you and Sniper?”

 

“Hell no. Nobody knows about me an' him. 'Cept you and Engie. And I guess Doc might now, too. And if he knows then Heavy will know before too long. Shit... now the whole team will know.”

 

“Max, I doubt any of us really care except maybe Demoman and Soldier. And you know how they are. They will not figure it out on their own, and we certainly will not tell them.”

 

“What about Mumbles?”

 

“Oh, I am sure Pyro was the first to figure it out. He is a very intuitive person.”

 

“Aw, jeez.”

 

“So your family, they do not know?”

 

“Naw.”

 

“When will you tell them?”

 

“Christmas, I guess. Wil's coming home with me then.”

 

“What will you tell the young lady you were seeing before you came here?”

 

“Hell, I cut that off a long time ago. She was... a bitch. She didn't do anything but treat me like shit. Always fussin' at me if I didn't write her letters and callin' me a cold-hearted murderer. When I told her I was breakin' up with her... she told me she'd been cheatin' on me with a couple of my brothers anyway. Our whole relationship was a sack of lies, just like it was with every other girl I ever dated.”

 

“I am sorry to hear that.”

 

 _What?_ Max had a girlfriend? And she did that to him? It was a good thing I wasn't in reach of a plane to the states. I would've hunted this girl down and taught her a thing or two about what we do out here and how hard it is on us. I wanted to say something, but I stayed put and listened more.

 

“Doesn't matter now. I got Wil. I just... I just hope he's different. He ain't a girl and he's nice to me. And I don't have to make up lies about who I am and what I do to keep him happy. So maybe it'll be different with him.”

 

“I think it will. He cares about you very much.” Astor turned and looked in my direction. So he _did_ know I was here. He nodded towards Scout, telling me to speak up. I stood upright and sort of dug my hands into my pockets. Suddenly I felt like I was back in school and getting ready to tell some pretty girl I liked her.

 

“I hope so.” Max sounded so sad.

 

I sighed. “ 'Course I do, Max.” He jumped at the sound of my voice.

 

“The fuck, you asshole?” He looked around trying to place where my voice was coming from. “You're worse than fuckin' Spooky! At least he asked to come in. How long have you been there?”

 

“The whole time.”

 

Astor stood up and brushed off his suit. “I will leave ze two of you alone.” And he left, hand outstretched slightly to keep from running into things. I took his place on the bed.

 

“Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

 

“I don't _now._ ”

 

He kept trying to find my face but he never quite got there. I took his face in my hands and turned it towards me. “Oi'm over here, mate.”

 

“Why would you listen in on me an' Spy?”

 

“I was just worried about you. Why wouldn't you want to discuss something like that with me, but you would Astor?”

 

“I dunno. I just been talkin' to him friendly for longer than you.”

 

“Why would you ever let a girl treat you that way?”

 

“I just can't pick girls. And I couldn't openly date guys where I'm from, okay? It's hard for me. I gotta try to keep up appearances for my brothers. They can't know about me bein' gay. Not yet. So I just picked girls and I tried to love 'em but it just never worked out 'cause I always pick total shitheads for girlfriends. And I could never love 'em. Never. And now that I got you and I might be able to actually be in love, hell, I don't know what to do, Wil. I ain't never had to deal with real love before.”

 

What was I supposed to say to that? It was so strange trying to talk to him would having his eyes to look into. The bruise across his face leaked out from under his bandages and gave his cheeks a yellowey tinge. I wanted to look him in the eyes. I touched his face lightly and he shrunk back from me for moment out of surprise, but then he seemed to relax to my touch. “Ya want these off, Max?”

 

“Doc said he'd do it later.”

 

“He can kiss my arse. Ya don't look roight all covered up like that.”

 

“Sure, I'd love 'em off. The sooner the better.”

 

I reached behind his head and fumbled with the pin holding the bandages together. Carefully, trying not to accidentally touch his face too hard, I unwrapped his eyes. They were puffy and blackish-blue bruises were forming around them. But his irises were still that brilliant electric blue I loved. He blinked a few times and gave me a little smile.

 

“There. I wanted to look at those eyes, darlin'.”

 

“Darlin'? I got pet names now?”

 

“Don't mind, do ya? I won't use 'em in front of anybody.” I touched his cheek lightly. “Does it hurt much?”

 

“A little. Feels like I'm all stuffed up. And, I guess I don't mind you callin' me nice things like that. Just not used to it is all. My brothers always called me Small Fry or Shorty 'cause I'm the youngest and the smallest. And girls always just called me Max or Jackass. Usually Jackass.” He looked down at his hands.

 

“Why would they call you that?”

 

“Fuck, I don't know. I guess 'cause I always had to act like an asshole to live up to the rep my brothers all had. I love my brothers, but one day I wanna prove to 'em that I'm just as good as them at anything. Fightin', runnin', baseball, even getting a date was a competition between us. I always lost that one 'cause they'd all pick up all the nice girls and tell all the others lies about me. Sometimes girls would date me to get to one of my brothers or just to be known as one of the 'Robinson's Girls'. That's what happened with that girl I was seein' before I came out here. She knew I was leavin' so she got with me and probably played lovesick-army-wife-girlfriend-bitch to get my brothers to swoon over her. She probably couldn't choose which one to date, so she just had her way with a couple of 'em.”

 

I took his face in my hands again and turned his eyes upward to meet mine and I decided to prop my glasses up on the brim of my hat, just so he could see my eyes clearly and know I was serious. It made his face blurry, but the blue of his eyes was still very sharp. I stroked the bruised skin around his eyes lightly with my thumb. “You listen to me, Max. You listenin'?”

 

“Yeah.” He didn't take his eyes off me.

 

“You don't deserve to be treated that way. And I want you to know I won't ever do anything like that to ya. You're too good for that. You're a brilliant fighter and a fantastic mate and I love you.” He swallowed and started turning red. “And I'm gonna treat ya like I love ya. It'll be different for both of us. I've never loved a man before, and you're still very young. But I'm here and willing to try if you are. And I'll go home with you for Christmas and I'll help you talk to your family... about us. And I'll always try to do right by you. Because I think you're what I need. I think you're the kick in my ass I've been needin' all these years to get over Laura and get through my parents dying and get my life goin' again. You make me happy. And I want to make you happy, Max.”

 

“You mean all that?” He looked like he might cry and his voice was achingly quiet.

 

“I've never meant anything more in my whole life.”

 

“So does that mean we get to have hot, manly sex in your van?” He smirked.

 

I felt my face turn red. “Ah... Um... One step at a time, hm? Let's- let's stick with this for a while.” I kissed him lightly on the lips and me made a small sound in his throat. I touched his neck and leaned into this kiss a little more. His lips were warm and a little dry and the little bit of scruff on his jaws felt strange against my own face but the affect he had on me while we were kissing was brilliant. It sent me into a writhing frenzy my body hadn't felt in years. Something about him. His voice and his big blue eyes and his lean scared body and the way his hands were curling around my waist gave me an itch; Made me want to reach inside him and find his heart and put all the broken pieces back in their places. I wanted to take all of his hurt and crush it, the way he wanted to crush the letter about my parents.

 

Suddenly I was aching in a much worse way. We only had about a week before I'd have to go home. But Max would be with me. I'd be alright with him there. Maybe then, before I send him off to his home in the States, maybe then we could make love. I'd take him out to the middle of the Bush and love him under the stars. I'd make it perfect.

 

And then it occurred to me that I needed to change my train of thought. Otherwise things were going to heat up too quickly down south. I broke the kiss.

 

“It's getting' late. Whattaya say we head out to my van, hm? Curl up and get some shut eye. Sleepin' in'll be nice.”

 

“Sounds great.” His face was flushed and the bruise changed to weird colors.

 

“Awlroight, then let's get outta here before Doc gets back. He can lookit your eyes tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worry not, friends. Sniper's words are true! _Soon_ there will be sexytime. I know you are all waiting with bated breath. ;0


	6. Intermission: There He Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little intermission chapter with a teeny peek into the lives of Romanov and Guntram, our Heavy and Medic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this small chapter:
> 
> Off He Goes - Pearl Jam

Medic swung the door to them infirmary open wide. “Alright, Herr Scout, we can remove your-” He froze. The bed was empty and neither Scout nor Sniper were anywhere in sight. The bandages were laying on the bed. “Dieser dumme junge wird seine augen zerstören!” He huffed around the room. Heavy followed him in and shut the door behind him.

 

“What is wrong, Doktor?”

 

“Ze Scout took his bandages off and ran avay! Vith ze Sniper, no doubt.”

 

“I sense the Leetle Man and Tall Man are very close.”

 

“Yes, Herr Heavy, zey are I szink.” Medic sighed made his way across the room to his office and sat down in the wingback chair in front of his desk. “As much as I vould like to have inspected Scout's eyes now, I cannot say I am too surprised by his actions.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and hunched over. “He is, as he might say, an 'insufferable jackass.' Dummkopf.”

 

Heavy moved behind the chair and gently massaged Medic's shoulders. The doctor visibly relaxed. “Danke, Romanov.”

 

“Natürlich, mein freund.” Heavy's German was stiff and had the slightest Russian lick to it, but the effort he'd put into learning it all those years ago always softened Medic's need to correct the way he rolled his Rs.

 

“Perhaps,” Heavy spoke again, “Leetle Max is what Sniper needs? The Tall Man has never been happy here.”

 

“I hardly szink any of us are happy here. We are fighting a war.”

 

“I am happy to be here, so long as you are here, too, comrade.”

 

“Yes, I suppose ve do keep ourselves vell togezher, don't ve, friend?”

 

“Sniper and leetle Scout, they are good together, da? They will keep each other happy, like you and I, Guntram.”

 

“I szink zey are marginally more romantically interested in each oszer zhan ve are.”

 

“But the effect is the same in the end, I think.”

 

The two were quiet for a while. Heavy kept quietly rubbing circles with his thumbs into the crooks of Medic's back.

 

“It is a shame,” Medic spoke up, “for Herr Sniper's parents to have perished in such a vay.”

 

“Yes.” Heavy thought for a moment, and was reminded of why the death of Sniper's parents might bother his Medic. He took his hands off Medic's shoulders and leaned down to look the doctor in the eyes. “Guntram, I am so very sorry... about your father.”

 

“Romanov, you have apologized far too much. It vas not your fault, mein freund. Just a terrible accident. Please, do not apologize for it. It vas so long ago.”

 

“I will always feel partially to blame, Guntram.”

 

Medic sighed and placed his hand on Heavy's. “Give my regards to your mother vhen you speak to her, hm?”

 

“Of course, doktor. She asks about you each time I speak to her.”

 

“She is truly an angel.” Medic smiled to himself, thinking back on what few good memories of his strange childhood he had. “Now, Herr Heavy, vhat do you say to a game?”

 

“Da, zhis would be wonderful!” Heavy always seemed to get excited over the prospect of games, especially with the Medic. “Chess?”

 

“Actually, I vas szinking of somezing a little different. Mancala?”

 

“Oh, I have not played zhis game in a long time. It will be fun!” His smile was broad and honest as he went to work clearing the little table they played their games at.

 

It was only a moment before the two of them had the Mancala board set up and the little marble pieces evenly split into all 12 pits. They sat quietly, Medic in his wingback chair and Heavy on a small, very unlucky, fold-out chair, taking turns dropping the stones around the board.

 

“It has been long time since I have played dis game. I forgot how hard it was to pick up the teeny tiny pebbles.” Heavy noted as he carefully scooped each individual rock from the pit.

 

“Ze pieces are not all zhat small, Herr Heavy. You just have very large hands.”

 

“All the better to protect Doktor with.”

 

“Hm,” Medic smiled, “You worry too much, freund.” Medic took his turn.

 

“So do _you,_ Doktor. Your worries, they are far too big for your small body.”

 

“You szink so?” The doctor smirked.

 

“Da,” Heavy replied very seriously as he passed around a set of pebbles, “I must protect you, Doktor; Even if I am just protecting you from yourself. I promised your family they would not regret letting me be your friend.”

 

“Romanov, I hardly szink ze opinions of a handful of dead ex-relatives I never liked really matters anymore.”

 

“Then I do it _because_ you are my friend.”

 

“What makes you szink I need protection from myszelf?”

 

“The way you always pull yourself away from the things you enjoy.”

 

Medic examined the board and stood up. “I should find ze Scout.”

 

“See? You are doing it now, Doktor.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Leaving, when you are happy. You were smiling, I see dis. Please, Guntram. The game is not over yet.”

 

“You have won. There's nothing I can do to beat your score.”

 

“Then stay and talk, like old times. Leetle Scout is off with the Sniper. Let them enjoy their company. And you enjoy yours.”

 

Medic chuckled lightly to himself and sat back down. “I can't vork viszout you trying to make me have fun and I can't have fun viszout everyone trying to make me vork. It iz difficult, Romanov, but alright. I vill sit vith you.”

 

“Danke.” Heavy smiled. Medic winced lightly. The inflexion Heavy put on the word was all wrong.


	7. Someone to Treat You Nice and Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, a filler/info chapter until we get to Broome. But it's not without it's important parts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, I have updated this story. Goodness that took a while, but only because I was also working on another, more anticipated chapter at the same time. Until the next update, have this video of me drawing Pyro and Engie!
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxp_QXMl9Y4&feature=plcp
> 
> If you look close, you can even see where I have FMD pulled up in a tab. XD
> 
> Also, you guys totally need to check out Quiet Maniac's first portion of the Gun Barrel Blues series! He'll be doing a Demo/Solly friend fic, and fics on Astor and Engie. The Demo fic is called An Anecdote with a Side of Scotch and can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/461391
> 
> It's his first work posted here, so give him some love! <3
> 
>  
> 
> Songs for this chapter:
> 
> Dream About Me - Moby  
> All You Ever Wanted - The Black Keys
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading!

_**Sniper** _

 

_**Babe,** _

 

“Wil?”

 

“Yeah, Laura?”

 

**_Oh dream about me..._**

 

“Why did you bring me all the way out here?” She smiled at me. It was the most perfect smile I'd ever seen. I dug my hands into my pockets and fingered the little box with the ring I'd bought last week.

 

_**Lie, on the phone to me.** _

 

“Jus' wanted to take you someplace special, darlin'.”

 

“We're on a boat in the de Grey river. What's so special about it?” She laughed as she looked around at the luscious trees and murky water. The sun poked through the tree branches painted light shows across her stunning face and weaved into her silky dark hair.

 

_**Tell me no truth,** _

 

“This is the place moi dad use'ta bring me when Oi was a kid. Oi grew up in this water.”

 

“Really? Well then it _is_ special, isn't it? It must mean the world to you.” She touched my hand.

 

_**If it is bad...** _

 

“Not loike you mean to me. Oi'd give up ev'ry river in the world just to see your smile.” I touched her face and leaned in to her lips. And at that moment, I'd never been happier in my whole life.

 

“Laura, Oi... Oi really brought you out here to ask you something... important.”

 

**_There's enough in my life,_**

 

A brief look of worry crossed over her face. “What is it, Wil?”

 

“Oh nothin' bad, babe. Don't look loike that. It's a _good_ important question!” I touched her chin and brushed her hair behind her ear and I grinned at her like a little kid.

 

_**To make me so sad.** _

 

She smiled. My heart broke and built itself back together, just like it did every time she smiled. I tucked my hand into the pocket with the ring. Suddenly I was acutely aware of the boat rocking back and forth on the water. I became nearly sick to my stomach with nervousness. I wrapped my fingers around the box. “Laura, Oi...” I took the box out and held it in front of her. It took a moment, but it started registering on her face that she knew what I was about to do.

 

_**Just dream about, color fills our lives...** _

 

“Darlin'... Oi love you so much,” I got off the bench of the little rowboat and, with a little difficulty, managed to get down on one knee, wiggling with the boat. “An' Oi wanna be with you the rest'o moi loife.” My accent was drawling out in my shaky voice and made me feel silly. Laura never had quite the accent of any other native Australian. I opened the box. She took in a sharp breath. I knew I picked a great ring.

 

“Laura, will you marr-”

 

It took half a second too long to realize what happened. The boat rocked nearly sideways as a huge crocodile lunged out of the water, latched onto Laura's shoulder and pulled her under the water. She didn't even have time to scream.

 

**_Just dream about, someone else tonight._**

 

“ _LAURA!”_ I grabbed my knife out from under the bench of the boat and dove into the water. Frantically I sloshed blindly through the muddy, bloody water. I found the tail of the croc and plunged my knife into its side. It reared around and hit the side of my head with its muzzle. I rammed the knife between my teeth and clapping my arms around its neck, I climbed on its back and tried my best to strangle it. It rolled over and the next thing I knew I was choking on murky water under the weight of a full-grown crocodile. I took the knife from my mouth and rammed it into the beast's skull. It went limp. I climbed out from under it and made my way to the shore, coughing up water and screaming for Laura.

 

_**Babe, oh, dream about me,** _

 

“Laura, where are you? Answer me!” I clamored around the shore for a few moments. And then I found... what was left of her. I pulled her body to the shore. Her right arm was completely off from the shoulder and her legs were mangled and bloody. Her right one didn't even have a foot. Her face was torn up and she was not breathing. Not even a little.

 

_**On the phone, talking quietly...** _

 

“No... No no no no no... NO! Laura, darlin', please... no... I felt the weight of my universe tumble onto my shoulders. It shoved me down onto her chest and forced all the water on my clothes into my body and out my eyes. My voice went hoarse from screaming. I kissed her lips and her eyes and her nose and cheeks. Her face, even under all the blood and lifelessness, was so stunning. Her damp hair curled around her neck and over her chest and clumped together in places with mud and blood, but it was still brilliantly raven-black.

 

_**I want to be yours, oh won't you be mine,** _

 

I looked out to the water and saw the crocodile's body floating in the water. And just down the shore a few feet from where the boat had been, there was a huge nest. With eggs. The crocodile was a mother, just protecting her babies.

 

_**Against red skies,** _

 

I found myself back in the boat, looking. After a moment, I found the ring box. I went back to Laura's still body and knelt beside her on one knee.

 

_**For all time?** _

 

“Laura-...” My voice shook violently. “Will you... marry... me?” I choked on the last two words and cried the volume of the river all over again as I slid the ring on her thin, pale, cold finger. I kissed her one more time.

 

_**Just dream about, color fills our lives...** _

_**Just dream about, someone else tonight...** _

 

And then I opened my eyes.

 

_**Just dream about, color fills our song...** _

_**Just dream about, how I will let go...** _

 

 

_**Scout** _

 

I woke up a little before Snipes did. I sat up as best I could on his little bed, wedged between him and the wall of his van. My head was pounding and my nose was throbbing. My vision was blurry, too. I felt Wil shift next to me and I looked down at him. He was half covered up and soaked in sweat. His face was twisted in a really scary expression that looked like it might be fear or anger or both.

 

“Wil?” I touched his shoulder.

 

“No, NO!” He shot up in bed screaming.

 

“WOAH, Wil what's wrong?” I grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards me. His eyes were huge. He looked like a deer in headlights. He blinked and was panting really hard. His eyes were puffy and red and his face was pale. He looked really sick. I touched his forehead. It was clammy with sweat, but not warm. His eyes watered up.

 

“Laura...”

 

“Aw, jeez...” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into an awkwardly angled hug. “Did'ja dream about her or somethin'?”

 

“Mmhm...” I heard him mumble into my shoulder. “ 'Bout when she died.”

 

This is not how things are supposed to be. Wil is supposed to be happy. “What the fuck am I even doin'?” I said more to myself than him. He pulled away from me and caught my eyes.

 

“Wot?”

 

I turned away from him. “Aw, who'm I kiddin', Wil? I can't be with you. You can't love me.”

 

“...Wot?” He repeated, quieter. His eyes were wide and watery.

 

I crawled over him and out of the bed and pulled on my pants and shirt. “Wil, your heart's still with her, an' you know it, pal. You can't love me. I ain't her. Hell, I ain't even got tits or a nice ass. I'm just leadin' myself on, doing shit like this.”

 

He stared at me for a moment. He looked like a scared little kid. And then he said quietly, “Oi think ya got a great arse.”

 

I felt my face go hot. “Why were ya lookin'?!” He didn't say anything. “Well... I'm nothin', Wil. I can't do anything for ya.” I slid on my hat and socks and shoes. He remained silent. “I'm gonna go see the Doc. He still needs to look at my eyes.” And I opened the door and stepped out into the crispy morning heat.

 

I managed to get about ten feet and then the van door slammed open.

 

“Max!”

 

I stopped and turned to see Wil, in just his boxers, standing in the door of the camper van.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I come with ya?”

 

“Put some damn clothes on, first.”

 

He jogged over to me. I willed myself to keep my eyes on his face. I really need to stop thinkin' about his elusive junk.

 

He stopped a few inches from me. His hair was roughed up and, for the first time, I saw in the light that his hair had little hints of gray in it. That just reminded me that he's a lot older than me. One more reason not to fuck with his life. His chest was covered in scars, some just healing, some probably older than me. His dull blue eyes were tired, but alive. He looked me up and down and then smiled at me and sighed.

 

“You're exactly wot Oi need.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“I wouldn't lie a day in my life to ya, Maxi.”

 

“Maxi?”

 

“Nicknames, sorry. I like 'em.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Don't just _leave._ ”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Well it just doesn't feel right.”

 

“That's why I'm leavin'.”

 

“I gotta keep my promise.”

 

“What promise?”

 

“To you. I gotta go home with you to meet your family.”

 

My heart stopped for a second. “You still... wanna do that?” I cocked my eyebrows at him.

 

“If you're still willin' to go back to Broome with me to take care of ma'parents.”

 

I thought for a minute. “Sure... 'course I am.”

 

“I love you.” He forced his accent away to say it.

 

“Really?”

 

“Sure I do.”

 

“How do ya know? You weren't even _gay_ until I decided I wanted you to be.” I was turning red again. I could feel it. I hadn't thought to much about it, but he _had_ pretty much just turned his head around for me.

 

“So? Why does there have to be a label? Can't I just love ya?”

 

No. As much as I wanted him to, _craved_ for him to, he couldn't ' _just_ love me.' Not if he was gonna meet _my_ family. “Sure ya can. If you can handle it.” I winked at him.

 

“ ' _If I can handle_...?' Wot sort'a man d'ya take me for, mate? Oi can handle a liddle ankle-biter loike you. I kill yer lookaloike a hundred toimes a day! Nah getch'arse over here and kiss me loike a fackin' man!” I had to chuckle at that thick accent.

 

“My 'lookalike' ain't nuttin' like me, pal. Wannabe, twinkletoes Red Sox fan is what he is. Disgrace to the Scout name!”

 

“Yeah, roight. Oi said com'ere an' kiss me.” He grabbed my waist and pulled me into him and smashed his lips on mine. It was the roughest, manliest kiss ever, I kid you not. And god _damn_ it was hot.

 

I pulled away from him and wiped my mouth. “Now get some fuckin' clothes on if you're gonna go with me to see the Doc. I ain't havin' him stare at you shirtless.”

 

“Max, he's the Medic. He's seen me naked.”

 

“Don't fuckin' remind me.” _Lucky bastard._

 

Wil stepped back into his van and came back out after a minute in a t-shirt and cargo shorts. I don't think I'd ever seen him dress so... normal. I mean, I'd seen him in just his boxers plenty of times but I never let myself look too long. He had his glasses on now, but he made no effort to clean up his hair. He was wearing sandals, too. I didn't even know he had real feet under those boots he always wore. His legs were really pale compared to his suntanned arms. I guess mine probably are, too. He walked up to me and we started walking back towards the base. He always parked a long way off.

 

After a minute he said, “Aw, y'aven't got any back pockets...” I turned to see him staring at my ass.

 

“Yeah, so?” I looked away from him. I had to stop letting him embarrass me like that. “What's it to ya?”

 

“Nowhere to tuck my hand.” He leaned down and grinned at me. “ 'At's wot's wrong with it.” And then he just flat stuck his hand inside the waist of my pants _and_ boxers! Just tucked his fingers right inside my clothes like I invited him personally and he RSVP'd before he even made it back home.

 

“What the fuck, man?” Though I admit, his warm, rough fingers felt great on my lower back like that.

 

“Wot? That'll just have to do since you don't have pockets.”

 

“Who gave you a first class invite to the wicked party that is my ass?”

 

“Want me to move my hand, then?”

 

“Nah... s'fine. Just threw me off, is all.”

 

“You can put your hand in my pocket if you want. We'll look loike a regular young couple.” He winked at me.

 

“What?! No way, faggy faggerson. My hands are stickin' right here where they belong.” I crossed my arms. He pulled me closer and kissed my head.

 

“Suit yourself. But I hope you don't hold that same policy in bed.”

 

“Wh- What?” I stopped for a second. In bed? _Sex?_ Shit I didn't even know what to think of that. I mean I joked about it before, but if he was really thinkin' about it, hell, I don't know.

 

He just smiled at me and pulled me along.

 

 

 

Outside Doc's office, I stopped Wil and pulled him close to my face. “Hey can I ask you somethin'?”

 

“ 'Course ya can, hun.”

 

“ _Hun_...? Shit, I still gotta get used to these names.” He smirked. Jerk. “Anyways, listen... about this morning... are you okay? That dream seemed to rattle you up, but you ain't actin' like it's botherin' you now.”

 

“Oi have that dream pretty often. And if we're gonna make a habit of bunkin' together, you'll probably see my loike that a lot. So Oi'm sorry for it. I ain't actin' different 'cause I'm used to it. I gotta keep goin'.” He leaned down close to my ear and kissed it. I shivered. “An' I got a gorgeous young man to play with awl day. Who needs sleep?”

 

“This guy.” I pointed to myself. “So don't go wakin' me up all hours of the night with your shitty dreams about gator-girl, kay?” I opened the door to Doc's office.

 

“Of course, darlin'.” He smacked my ass as I walked through.

 

“HEY. Watch it, piss junkie...”

 

“Heehee...” And he giggles. He fucking giggles. What is he, a three year old girl?

 

Fucking adorable is what he is.

 

“Ah, Herr Scout. It is about time you showed up. May I look at your eyes now or are you planning to elope with ze bushman before you can see six feet in front of yourself?” Doc got up from his desk and walked over to me.

 

“Shut it, ya quack. Just get this over with.” I sat up on the hospital bed. Snipes took a seat across the room.

 

After about an hour of poking and bright lights and weird machines and asking 'which is better, this, or this?' I was thoroughly pissed off and ready to walk out.

 

“We about done here, Doc?”

 

“Yes, Herr Scout. I'm having ze lenses for your glasses made now. Vonderful technology ve have here, hm? Normally it would take more szahn a veek to get your glasses made and sent here.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, a modern miracle. Hurry it up, alright?”

 

“Patience, Herr Scout. I could always do a few experimental procedures to pass ze time...” He smiled wickedly.

 

“NO.” Snipes and I both said it at the same time.

 

It was another half an hour before my glasses were done. Doc brought them over and handed them to me. They were thin and rectangular, which was better than Doc's stupid looking round glasses. But the frames were a weird shade of darkish blue. “Any other color choices?”

 

“Nein. Ve _do_ vork for ze _BLU_ team, Herr Scout.”

 

“ _Your_ glasses aren't blue.”

 

“I had mine long before I accepted my job here.”

 

“Fine.” I slid them on and _holy shit_. I didn't think they'd make much of a difference but _goddamn_. Suddenly everything was brighter and clearer. I saw better than I did even before I got busted in the face!

 

“Woah...”

 

“Vell, how are zhey?”

 

“They're great, Doc!” I turned and looked at Snipes. Shit, I could see every detail of his face from across the room. “How do I look?” He grinned at me.

 

“Oi think ya look brilliant, Max.”

 

“Better question, how do I _actually_ look? Somebody hand me a mirror.” Doc handed me a mirror he kept on the bedside table. I guess he kept it there for times like this.

 

Damn... I looked...

 

Like a total dweeb. Like one of those kids that always get picked on in school because they're complete nerds, but everybody goes to them for homework help and the kid just deals with it because he doesn't wanna get beat up any more than he already does. I looked like one of _those_ kids.

 

“Aw jeez... I really gotta wear these?”

 

“If you vant to fight, yes.”

 

“Uugh... this sucks!”

 

Wil came over and put his hand on my shoulder. “Max, ya look foine.”

 

“Yeah well I ain't got much of a choice, do I?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Whatever.” I walked out and Snipes followed after me.

 

We hung together for the rest of the weekend. It took me a while to get used to having glasses. Snipes agreed to take me out and pitch some balls to me so I could get used to hittin' things. And after a couple hours of target practice with my guns, I was doing pretty good. It was a matter of running around and fighting with these things that worried me.

 

Monday came way too fast. In five days it'd be Friday, and I guess I'd be on a plane to Broome, Australia, wherever the fuck that was. I was still just getting used to the idea of being with Snipes for so long. But I loved it. I don't think I could ever really show him just how much. But I loved it so much. It was great, always being treated well and everything. It was going to be weird spending a few days with him without having to fight or anything. I wondered what Australia would be like.

 

The week passed pretty easily. Still no sign of the new RED Sniper or Pyro. I figure RED'll wait till after Thanksgiving break to bring 'em in. I was fine with that. It meant we won most fights. Friday rolled around uneventfully. And after a pretty short day of fighting, we were packing our things. I was ready in less than an hour. I threw all my clothes in my duffel bag and hoofed it over to Snipe's van.

 

When I got close, I got a little worried. The van door was open and there were clothes and stuff thrown out all over the sand. I picked up a couple shirts and stepped inside.

 

“Wil?”

 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head tucked between his knees and his fingers knotted in his hair.

 

“...Whot?” He finally answered after swallowing so hard I could hear it.

 

“What'sa matter with you?”

 

“Fahckin' everything, Max. Oi'm fawlin' goddamned apart.”

 

I set the shirts on the little table and sat beside him on the bed. “Ya wanna give me specifics, big guy?” I wrapped my arm over his shoulder. He wasn't wearing his vest and his shirt was almost completely undone. If he weren't so upset, he'd look really hot.

 

“Oi'm not ready for this, Max. Oi can't go 'ome to Broome and bury Mum and Dad loike it's just the thing to do. It's not roight, Max! They shouldn't be dead yet. Oi can't do this...” He clenched his fists harder in his hair.

 

“Sure ya can, Wil. You can do it just fine. Ya just gotta tell yourself to.”

 

“Oi can't...”

 

“Then I will.”

 

“Whot?”

 

I stood up and faced him. “Stand up.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I fuckin' said so. You can't do it on your own, so I'll make ya do it myself. Just like Solly. Now stand up, soldier!”

 

Slowly he got up. I took his hands in mine and he finally opened them up revealing a crumpled photo. I unfolded it the best I could and looked at it for a moment. It was black and white and pictured a beautiful couple, smiling and happy. And in the woman's arms was a baby all wrapped up.

 

“This is them, huh? And the baby is you, I bet.”

 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “S'what I was lookin' for earlier. S'why there's this big mess. I needed to find that picture. It's the only one I have of them.”

 

“You were a cute kid.” I smiled at him. “Hold on a second.” I sat my bag down, unzipped it and dug around a minute until I found the sewing kit my mom had given me before I left for the war. I took a safety pin out of it and carefully pinned the photo to the inside of Snipes' collar.

 

“There. Now whenever you wanna see them, you can just look down into your shirt. And you won't lose it anymore.”

 

He looked down at the photo for a minute and then looked at me, smiled, and pulled me into a hug. He sniffed a couple of times and tucked his mouth into my neck and said “Thank you, Max. You're brilliant.”

 

“Yeah, fuckin' genius, I know. What would you do without me?” I squeezed him back. I was starting to really enjoy hugs, as long as they were with Snipes.

 

“I'd be lonely and bored, 'at's whot.”

 

“Damn straight.” I pulled away and punched his shoulder playfully, “Now let's get this mess cleaned up so we can get on that plane.”

 

In about half an hour, we had everything cleaned up and a bag full of anything Snipes might need. We took his van on the hour trek between Teufort and BLU's airport, or what they liked to call an 'airport.' There were six tiny planes and one runway. Both BLU and RED team were adamant about never letting any of us know exactly where we were at any given time until we got to our respective countries, so regular airports were out of the question. Each plane had a flag painted on it. The biggest one had an American flag. It's the one that usually took me, Solly, Engie, and Pyro home. It'd be one passenger short this time. The others, I'm sure you can imagine, had either a Scottish, Russian, German, French, or Australian flag on it.

 

Once all nine of us were there, we said our short goodbyes and walked across the tarmac to our respective planes. Looks like Heavy and Medic are both heading to Russia this time, not that I'm surprised. Soldier and Demo both gave me a strange look when they saw me head towards the Australian plane with Snipes. I decided not to say anything. I just followed close behind him as we boarded. Snipes let me have the window seat. Each of the planes took turns taking off from the one runway, us last. The order was different every time. No sooner did we get in the air than did I fall asleep, my head on the window and my fingers laced together with Wil's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's almost time for THE chapter. You know what I mean, you perverts. As promised, SOON you will have your smut. ;)


	8. Turn, Turn, Turn -or- To Everything There is a Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter to date. In Open Office it totals to right at 25 pages and 11,950 words. Good lord, what am I doing with my life?
> 
> Songs for this chapter (there's four because this is a long-ass chapter):
> 
> Here - Jackson Browne (Plane Ride)
> 
> Firewood - Regina Spektor (Scene at the Dacey's House)
> 
> Turn Turn Turn - The Byrds (Pearl Farm and Funeral Scenes)
> 
> Honey - Moby (Road Trip)
> 
> EDIT: Fixed some minor stuff because it's no longer 3am and I'm no longer delirious.

**_Sniper_ **

 

Max was out like a light before we ever got above the cloud line. Probably better that way for both of us. I needed to think.

 

I looked out the window, past Max's head. Clouds floated past as we cut through their insides. Trails of unfallen raindrops streaked across the little plane window. I looked over at the young lad they put on the plane to give us drinks and stuff. Used to, we didn't have anyone on the plane for anything like that, but a few years ago, on his first leave trip from out here, Demo made a fuss about the lack of alcohol on the planes and refused to come back from leave until we were promised a host and a fully stocked airline bar on each plane. I didn't drink much, but I didn't complain either.

 

“Oi, mate? Could I get a glass of rum?” I said it quietly so I wouldn't wake Max.

 

“Any particular brand, sir?”

 

“Got Bundaberg?”

 

“Of course.” He smiled.

 

“That, then.” I unfolded the little tray in front of my seat and carefully untangled my hand from Max's. I was so, so grateful to not be going back to Broome alone.

 

The host came back and sat a little plastic cup of dark rum and a tiny napkin on my tray. “Thanks, mate. 'Preciate it.”

 

“Of course, Mr. Dacey.”

 

I took a small sip from the cup and let the heat of the liquid drill down my throat and into my empty stomach and settle there.

 

“If I may be so bold, Mr. Dacey, may I ask why Mr. Robinson is accompanying you back to Broome?” The host gave me an odd look. I'd seen this kid every time I flew to and from Teufort, but I never thought to speak to him otherwise. He was seated across the isle. I got a good look at him. He had short, curly blonde hair and olivey skin. His eyes were dark chocolate brown and his voice had the slightest Aussie twang to it, not unlike how soft Laura's was.

 

“Ah mate, you could say he an' I are pretty close. He's comin' with me to help me take care of some family affairs.”

 

“Oh? Are the two of you together then? As a couple?”

 

“Whot?” I felt my face heat up. “Hell, 'er's'no use in tryin' to lie low if every bloke I come across has a sixth sense for new-found homosexuality! Foine then, yes mate, he and I are together. As a couple. At least as far as I'm concerned. He's got his own opinions of us, I'm sure, but he doesn't argue against a warm pair of arms and loving word or two. I suppose he's let himself become just as much mine as I am his.”

 

“I think that's wonderful. For both of you. The two of you deserve some love in your lives.”

 

“Awful forward statement comin' from a plane host, mate. Whoi does everybody seem to know more about Max than me? Seems awful unfair!”

 

“For the same reason everyone knows more about you than he does, I'm sure.”

 

“Not one bloke out there that doesn't know my loife's story ever since Baz got 'is hands on my file. S'at why you seem to know so much? Do you get all our files, too?”

 

“Mr. Dacey, I've hosted on your plane for three years. And I was in charge of keeping an eye on you before I was given this hosting job, and two snipers before you. I've worked here since I was 18. I've heard and seen things involving your type. When it's not time for leave flights, I work as an assistant with the other plane hosts in BLU's facilities. We learn things day by day with no intentions to in the first place. It's all part of the job. I learned of your parent's unfortunate death before the Human Resources secretary even had the letter written.”

 

I stared at him for a moment. “Whot's your name, lad?”

 

“Burril Atkins, sir.”

 

“You've got a little Aussie lick to ya, mate. Where'ya from?”

 

“Sydney. Quite a ways from you.”

 

“No kiddin'.” I took another sip of my rum. “Got an awful good English tone for bein' from Sydney. How long you been here?”

 

“Considerably longer than you. I can't really say otherwise. Just trust me when I say the only Australian accent I've heard in years has come from you and the snipers before you. What I'd give to hear a sheila's voice once in a while, let me tell ya, mate.” His accent slipped out a little at the end of the statement. “Not that anything's wrong with listenin' to you blokes day in an' day out. S'awl normal to me, I suppose.”

 

“So is there someone in charge of awl of us? Like one of you fellas for Scout and Truckie and everyone?”

 

“Yes, sir.” He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “There's one of us for each one of you. All from your respective homelands. BLU keeps us as a sort of inside source. RED does it as well, but I'm not sure they have the same jobs as we do. BLU hires us to give them insight on you guys. And sometimes as translators if they can't understand what you're sayin'. We're basically catch-all secretaries trained to take care of everything involving you guys individually. We're in charge of your files and-”

 

“Whot? Our files?” I hate interrupting people but if this bloke was in charge of my file, he had some serious explaining to do.

 

“Yeah. I'm in charge of your's.”

 

“Then how the fuck did Baz get it? Did he buy it from you? You takin' bribes, mate?” I rose my voice a lot more than I would've liked. Scout shifted in his seat.

 

“What? No! Trust me, I had no part in what Baz did. He and his host were in cahoots together, mate!” He recoiled from me defensively. “I don't know all the details, but from what I heard, Baz wanted to get under your skin and his host wanted to infiltrate BLU's base for some personal reason. So they agreed to help each other out. Baz swiped his own Spy's cloak watch for his host to use to break in. In return, the host had to take a detour to steal your file.”

 

“And where were you, mate? If you're in charge of my file, I think you ought to have had it secured, roight?”

 

“Yeah, and I would've. But I was in the hospital. The RED Spy's host thought I was behind taking his Spy's cloak watch because me an' Mr. Bertrand's host are mates. He thought I was tryin' to give our spy an upper hand. Since the RED Spy couldn't cloak, our team picked him out easily and told Mr. Bertrand where he was all the time those couple of days.”

 

I remember those days, quite a while back, when it seemed like the RED Spy just flat stopped giving a fuck anymore. If what Burril was saying was true, that certainly accounted for it.

 

“So the RED Spy's host came after me.” He continued, “I ended up in BLU's hospital for a week trying to recover from a concussion and a gunshot wound to the chest. That's when Baz's host took your file. There was nothing I could do. I'm very sorry for what happened. Believe me when I say if I had known what was happenin', even if I only had a faint idea, I would've been out of that bed and after that tosser like m'loife depended on it.”

 

I settled back down in my seat and took a couple of deep breaths. Getting all worked up was not what I needed to do right before I had to lay my parents to rest. I swallowed the rest of my rum in one gulp and rubbed at the bridge of my nose under my glasses. Looking back at Burril, I saw he was obviously not too affected by my temper. He had leaned back in his seat and was humming some little tune to himself.

 

“So awl of that's true, mate? You swear it?”

 

“Bloody oath, mate. As your host, I wouldn't feel roight tellin' any lies to ya.”

 

I sighed and looked over at Max. He was still sleeping, curled up with his knees tucked against his chest and his head ducked against the tiny window.

 

I suddenly wished I'd had taken more time in killing Baz. That bastard deserved a slow and painful death for what he did. Not even against me, but for betraying his teammate like that for his own gain. But what I still didn't get was why he hated me so much. The only reasonable solution I could come up with was that I was just a better sniper. Nobody, on my team or his, could argue that.

 

For a long time, Burril and I talked. We chatted about Australia and weapons and things like that. Then I thought of something.

 

“Listen, mate; This is an important trip for me 'cause of my family an' awl, but I want it to be important for Scout, too.” I hushed my tone to nearly a whisper. I definitely didn't want him waking up during this bit of conversation. “The bloke's never been laid in his life. I'd like to change that. I haven't been out in the bush for years an' that's where I'd like to take him. Know anywhere nice we could have a good view of the sky and some privacy?”

 

Burril thought for a minute. “Honestly, doesn't matter where you're at in the bush, the sky always looks beautiful out there.”

 

“Yeah, but I really want it to be someplace memorable, not just some spot out in the middle of bloomin' nowhere.”

 

“Ah, but nowhere is the best place to make love, mate.”

 

“To each 'is own.”

 

“I know!” Burril's face lit up like a campfire on dry brush. “Take him to Ayers Rock!”

 

“Uluru?”

 

“Yeah, mate! Beautiful area, lotta shrubs around for some seclusion, it'd be the perfect place.”

 

I thought about that for a minute. It'd be a long drive. About a day and a half if we made good time. I'd have to hold the funeral tomorrow, on Saturday. We could leave Sunday; Monday night we'd have our time; leave Tuesday morning; back by Wednesday afternoon; and I could have him on a redeye flight Wednesday night so he'd be home by Thursday afternoon, just in time for Thanksgiving supper. It'd be tough, but if we could swing it, Uluru really _would_ be perfect.

 

“Thanks, mate! I think we'll try that.”

 

We talked more. Eventually we got on the subject of family.

 

“Sorry to hear about your mum and dad, mate.”

 

“Thanks. It's hard, but if there's a better place than this dusty planet, they're in it. They were really good people. Mum especially.” I smiled to myself at the thought of Mum and how well she used to keep things. Always had plenty of food on the table, always had boundless love and support. I felt a knot in my throat.

 

“Whot about you, mate? Got family back in Sydney?” I needed to change the subject.

 

“Nah, like I said, only Aussie accent I've heard in years is your's. I haven't got any family to call or write to. Grew up in a boy's home, honestly. I've never met my parents. And frankly, I don't care to. If they're going to leave me to my own devices roight outta the womb, then I'll leave them to their's so they can keel over in peace.”

 

“Fair enough I suppose.”

 

Scout finally roused from his nap, yawned, stretched and looked at me.

 

“Mornin' sleepy head. Enjoy your little nap? S'awl done with now. Awlready buried m'parents and everything. So sad you missed the funeral.”

 

“Hey, it ain't my fault you can't sleep like I can.” He yawned again. I kissed the top of his head.

 

“Want somethin' to drink?”

 

“Sure. Soda would be great.”

 

“They got alcohol if ya want it.”

 

“I know what they got. If I wanted it, I would'a asked for it.

 

“Just troin'a be polite, mate. Don't go gettin' yer knickers in a knot.”

 

“What an attitude, mate! This is the bloke you're wantin' to sleep with? I knew Robinson was a handful, but if this is how he is right after a nap, I'd hate to see him in bed _not_ sleepin'!” Burril couldn't suppress his laughter.

 

“Aw jeez, you're from Australia, too? What are you two like brothers or somethin'? I got enough Kangaroo Jack bullshit as it is! Now I gotta fly with two of ya?”

 

“Scout, you've slept through more than half the flight already. And what's wrong with bein' from Australia? Seems to me if everybody from where you're from is like you, _I'm_ the one that should be worried.”

 

“Can it, piss-junkie! And I asked for a soda like an hour ago, man. Hurry it up!”

 

Burril was still laughing. “Yes sir, Mr. Robinson.” He chuckled the whole way to the drink cart and back. The three of us talked for the remainder of the flight. It almost didn't feel like I was flying to a funeral for the only family I ever had.

 

 

**_Scout_ **

 

When we finally landed, we were, according to Snipes, about 40 miles outside of Broome. We'd landed in an open field. Me and Snipes and that other Australian guy, Burril, all got together and pulled Snipes' van out of the big cargo hold in the back of the plane.

 

After a few more minutes of talking, the pilots got pissy and said they were taking off. Wil and Burril shared what I choose to call a bro-hug because that makes me feel less jealous. I just gave Burril a nod, which he returned with a smile. I mean, he was nice and all. Real good to talk to, but somethin' about him made me uneasy.

 

The plane finally took off.

 

“Do you always have your van flown out here with ya?” We walked over to the old camper and climbed in. His stuff was a little displaced, but otherwise it looked like everything made it in one piece.

 

“Yep. They take a chunk of my paycheck to pay for it.”

 

“Why don't you just leave it back at the base? Or better yet, here?”

 

“At the base, my van is as close to home as I'll ever get. And here, I need it to go places, mate. Otherwise, we're walkin' to Broome from here. My van is like my rifle. It goes where I go. Now that Mum and Dad are gone, it's the only home I got. Especially if the house is in the kind of state I think it's in.”

 

“What state is that?”

 

“Gone.”

 

It only took us about a half hour to get to Broome. The town was bustling with tourists and there were Asians all over the place. As we drove slowly through the crowded streets (on the wrong side of the road I might add, but I guess that's normal for Australia) I saw a look on Wil's face that I couldn't place. It seemed sad, but relaxed at the same time. “Hey we _are_ in Australia, right?”

 

“ 'Course, mate. This is my hometown.”

 

“Then what's with all the Chinese people?”

 

“A lot of them are _Japanese_ , Max. There's also Europeans and Aboriginal people here. And a hefty dose of every other culture you can imagine. 'Lotta people flocked here in the 1800's to get in on the pearling business.”

 

“Pearling?”

 

“You know, pearls. Jewelry and such. This place is a haven for artists. Musicians, too.”

 

“Then how the hell did you end up here?”

 

“Dad worked on a pearl farm. Mum was a baker and made jewelry on the side. I worked in the bakery with her growing up. Eventually, she got too old to run the bakery and sold it once I had to leave for BLU. Dad worked at the farm 'till the day he died I suppose. I helped him there, too. I think I might be the only man in the world that can farm a pearl, bake an Aussie Damper, and kill a man all in the same breath.”

 

“What the hell is an _'Awzzie Damper'_?”

 

“It's bread that travelers in the bush came up with a long time ago. Mum taught me every way in the world to make it. I'll show you sometime.”

 

We drove for a little while longer and came to the coast. The sand was almost paper white and the ocean was bluer than the sky. I ain't one to care much for nature or any of that outdoorsy bullshit, but I know a beautiful beach when I see one. The sun was setting and the colors of the sky started melting into the water. “Where are we at, Wil?”

 

“Cable Beach. One of the most famous in the world. S'where I'll be spreadin' m'parent's ashes this time tomorrow. S'where they got married.”

 

“Oh...” I wasn't really sure how to respond to that. A train of people riding camels was walking along the shore. Wil saw them, too.

 

“Ever rode a camel, Max?”

 

“I ain't never rode nothin'. Not sure I care to. Those things look dangerous.”

 

“With that attitude, you'll never ride one. All they'll do is spit on you, mate.” He laughed.

 

“Ew gross! What the hell?!” I shuddered at the thought of one of those stupid animals slobberin' all over me.

 

“Whot'ya say to a sunset camel ride tomorrow night, hm?”

 

“No. WAY. Not if they're gonna spit on me.”

 

“They're harmelss, Max. Just a couple of little ol' camels.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Sunset camel ride it is, then.”

 

We drove along the shore a little longer and eventually the trees and rocks thickened up and road got curvy. After a couple of minutes we came to a clearing on a hill that overlooked the shore. There was green grass mixed with sand and rocks and bushes and there were lots of flowers. The whole scene was like something from one of those really famous paintings of little houses tucked away in secret places in the woods that they hang in old museums and everyone goes to see all the paintings but they want to see _that one_ especially, and when they _do_ see it, they turn their heads different ways, tryin' to make somethin' more out of a picture of a clearing on a hill but it ain't. And for some reason, that doesn't bother 'em none.

 

The difference was, the little house in this place wasn't a house anymore. It was just a skeleton. Support beams stood, all dark and rotten, and some of the old siding was still clinging to bits of wall that survived along with the last of the roof uncollapsed at one corner of the house. There was one very tall brick chimney towering above the rubble. In the dull light, it made a long shadow and the dark of it covered up Wil almost completely. I hadn't even notice him get out of the van. I got out and shut the door behind me and walked over to him.

 

“This it?” Why was I even asking? I knew it was.

 

“Yeah.” I looked at him. His expression hadn't changed much, but there were tears welling up in his eyes and his hands were shaky. I took one in mine.

 

“Well don't just stand there, Kangaroo Jack! Give me the grand tour!” Maybe I could make him cheer up a little.

 

Keeping a vice grip on my hand, he walked me around the layout of his old house, careful not to tread too heavily on any one spot in particular. There was burnt up furniture and papers and stuff everywhere. I tried not to think too hard about how Wil used to live here. He showed me every room. The den, where his father read the morning paper and drank his coffee and shined his shoes. The kitchen, where his mom baked and cleaned and where they had all of their meals together. The small bathroom, where his mom tended to his scrapes and his dad taught him to shave. The workshop, where Mr. and Mrs. Dacey worked on their own projects, and where Wil once built his own sailboat, with some help from his dad. The Dacey's bedroom, where (though I was fine without knowing this fact) Wil was conceived. And lastly, Wil's bedroom. He stopped where the entrance would have been and just stood there for a while. It was nearly completely dark and I had trouble seeing his face, even though I was right beside him.

 

What I could see was Wil's old metal frame twin bed, blackened, but still standing in one corner of the room. Beside it was a desk, toppled to a weird angle where one leg had burned off. There wasn't as much rubble here. It was the end of the house that still had some of the wall siding and part of the roof. The old hardwood floors were visible under the ash and there were remnants of what looked like old movie posters scattered everywhere. Wil carefully stepped into the room and looked around. He opened the closet door.

 

“Huh, my clothes made it. I guess the fire didn't make it in here too far.” He pulled the few shirts and pants out of the closet and folded them into his arms. He rummaged through the rest of the closet.

 

Meanwhile, I went to the desk and propped the legless corner up on the bed. “Anything in the desk drawers?”

 

“Doubt it, hun. I never kept much in there.”

 

I opened the top drawer anyways, more out of curiosity I guess. Inside was a envelope with big swoopy writing on the front that read simply 'Wil.'

 

“Hey, Snipes? Is this one of your Ma's letters? Looks like she never sent it. It's not addressed or anything.”

 

Instantly he dropped all of his clothes and jumped over to me. “Whot?! A letter from Mum?” I handed him the envelope.

 

“I guess. I dunno.”

 

He sat down straight on the ash and dust cross-legged and looked over the front carefully. “I'm not sure what it is. Mum always labels my letters as 'Mr. Wil Dacey,' never just my first name.”

 

“Well open it.”

 

Carefully, he opened the envelope and pulled a couple of folded papers out and started reading out loud.

 

_Wil,_

 

_I hope this makes its way to your hands safely. That big old desk in your room could survive a nuclear fallout, so I think it will be okay, no matter what happens to your father and I and the house._

 

_I am sorry that I did not have a letter to send you lately. But as I am sure you could guess, some things came up. Please keep this letter hidden and do not share it with anyone. I had swore to never tell you the events that lead to where you are at now, but as my son, I am sure you know when it comes to my family's safety, promises I make to others hold very little water._

 

_First, you should know that I love you. That is most important. You father loves you too, but he included his own letter for once so he can tell you himself. I love you, and though I worry constantly for your safety and I wish for nothing more than for you to come home for good, I am very proud of you and I am so grateful for how well you have taken care of your father and I in our old age._

 

_Now, to the matter at hand. You had told me in a previous letter that an enemy of yours had obtained the file of personal information your employer keeps on you. What concerned you was knowledge of Laura and her death getting out. This was only part of the plan in place, according to what I have been told. The file also contained our address and other information along those lines._

 

_Let me back-track for a moment. A man from Perth arrived at our house some time ago, our address revealed to him through that file. He informed us that he worked for the company that rivals the one you work for. He had said his job entails supervising his company's marksman and that you had someone that did this for you as well. Knowing this, you can imagine my discomfort at his being in our home. I tried to make him leave but he assured me that if your father and I didn't cooperate with him, he would have your friend killed. At the time I did not know you had befriended anyone there, but the man explained to me that you were very close to a young man from America. Wil, sweetheart, you have been through so much already. I hope you understand that I did not want you to be sad anymore. That is why I cooperated. If you had finally gotten close to someone again, friend or otherwise, I certainly did not want him taken from you. I hope with all my heart that he is safe. If so, give the second envelope to him. If not, please do not read it. To be honest, it is meant only for him to see. Consider following these instructions a final favor to your old mother._

 

 _Anyway, the man from Perth had come to our home in hopes of getting any personal information about you that was not in your file. He was very upset to learn that you had no other friends or loved ones that we knew of and that I was not even aware of your friendship with the American. Before he left he said, and these are his exact words, I remember because they sent chills down my spine, he said '_ No matter. As long as there are letters to write, there are lives to take.' _He said that and it scared me. I feared for the life of your friend as well._

 

_Then, today, we got a call from another young man, this time from Sydney. He said he was the one who supervised you. He did not leave his name but he called to warn us that the man from Perth is on his way now to our home. He was not sure what the man was going to do, but he urged us to leave. We wanted to write you these letters before hand so that you would not be in the dark about what happened. We will be packing our things shortly._

 

_That is all I know, sweetheart. I hope this information helps you figure out what exactly is going on. And I hope you can stop it. If we make it out safe, we will likely be at Mr. O'Hare's house. If not, he will know where we are. Just find him. However, I fear the worst may occur. I can only imagine what you must be feeling now, if you are reading this under the circumstances I fear you must be. If your father and I are gone, please know that there is still a world of happiness out there for you. I will see to that in my afterlife. Remember, I always said once I died I would haunt you until you were happy again? I am sticking to that promise._

 

_If you are with your friend now, the two of you have my all my love and support._

 

_Love, Mom_

 

“Baz's host did this? He killed my parents?” Wil's hands were shaking violently and his voice was a low growl. “And Burril knew! He knew and he didn't try to stop him! That bloody, backstabbing, goddamned prick!”

 

“He called your parents and warned them, Wil!” I pulled him into a hug. “Maybe that's all he could do. Maybe he just didn't have time to do anything else.” I felt a little bad for not liking that Burril guy, knowing that he tried to help Wil's parents. And I really didn't want Wil to hate him.

 

“Then why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he say something?” He sounded weaker now, like someone stole all of his strength.

 

“I dunno... but hey, your Ma said your Dad left a letter, too. Read it.”

 

He unfolded the last paper. Just one sheet.

 

_Son,_

 

_I'm sorry for not writing you as diligently as your mother. I just never really know what to say to you. I still wish you would've stuck around long enough to take my place on the pearl farm. But then again, if I didn't work, I'd be stuck at home with your mother all day. Don't tell her I said that._

 

_Anyway, I just want you to know that no matter what you do with your life, I really am proud of you._

 

_I love you, son._

 

_-Dad_

 

This time, Wil just broke down. He curled his head up to his knees and just cried. I think that's what he needed. I was curious about the letter his ma had mentioned that was for me. I went back to the desk and sure enough, there was another envelope further back in the drawer. I pulled it out and opened it. I decided to leave Wil alone to cry himself out, so I sat down on the dusty, ashy bed and read the letter silently.

 

_To the friend of Wil,_

 

_I truly hope you are safe and sound now. If I would hazard to guess, I would say that Wil cares enough about you that he will do everything in his power to keep you safe. He has always been such an affectionate boy. Though I suppose he is quite the man now._

 

_Now, I am not the smartest woman, but I am quite keen when it comes to my son. I know when something is up, even when I have not seen him in months. If the men who got his file wanted you dead so much, you are probably much more to Wil than just a friend._

 

_If this is the case, be careful, child. He has been a pain to deal with since Laura's unfortunate death. I doubt I had seen him really smile even once since she passed. But if he is willing to let you be with him, I know you must make him very happy. For that, I am forever in your debt. But be kind to him. Give him what he needs, not what he wants. Do not fret if he seems sad. Just give him reasons to keep going and he will find his own ways to cope. This holds true should something happen to his father and I. He is strong and always has been. Make him take the time to be weak once in a while. If you treat him well, and I know you will, child, he will return your love ten-fold._

 

_If all else fails and he will not smile for anything and you need a 'Panic Button,' his ribs and feet are very ticklish._

 

_With all a mother's love,_

_Mrs. Lottie Dacey_

 

I folded the letter up, put it back in the envelope, and tucked it safely into one of my deep pockets. I felt a knot in my throat. Mrs. Dacey's words and the sounds of Wil crying was starting to really get to me.

 

I knelt down in front of Wil and took his face in my hands made him look at me. “Hey. You listen to me. You listenin'?”

 

He nodded.

 

“You remember what you said to me about how you were gonna treat me like you loved me and how I made you happy and all that jazz?”

 

He nodded again.

 

“Well the same goes from me to you, alright? I love you. And you're gonna get through this just fine. I'm right here to help ya. I ain't goin' anywhere. Nobody's gonna kill me. Ain't no crocodiles gonna eat me. No fire's gonna burn me up. You're stuck with me. The least you could do is _try_ to enjoy it.”

 

He wrapped his arms around me and leaned his forehead against mine. He sniffed a couple of times and stopped crying and just looked me in the eyes.

 

“Thank you, Max.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fuckin' great, I know. You'd be a lost cause without me.”

 

 

**_Sniper_ **

 

The next morning I rose early and headed to the funeral home to carry out the last minute proceedings. It wasn't until I landed back here in Broome that I decided I wanted Mum and Dad cremated. But I think it's the thing to do. It's cheaper, but with my salary, money isn't an object. It's more that I think it's a more proper way to send them off. They always loved the ocean. And today there was a strong westerly wind so sending the ashes out on the waters of Cable Beach would go smoothly. I paid for an urn to carry the ashes in, but I had no intentions of keeping it since it'd be empty by this evening. I had plans for it afterward.

 

When I got back from the funeral home and all the other errands I had to run, Scout was finally up and out of the van. We'd stayed in the field by my old house. When I got there, he was outside in just his boxers brushing his teeth and running in place. That boy wouldn't keep his feet still to save his life. He was facing away from me so I took the chance to sneak up behind him and grab him around the waist.

 

“HEY. Fuhckuhn shtared the shut outta meh, ahshole!” He had a mouth full of toothpaste and looked like a dog with rabies fussin' at me like that.

 

“Shouldn't turn your back on me then, mate.” I nosed his neck and held him tighter. “S'bout time you woke up. I've already been to town and back.”

 

He spit the toothpaste out. “What did'ja fuckin' walk the whole way?”

 

“Yeah. Good exercise. Took care of everything for this evening.”

 

“Oh yeah? What's the plan?”

 

“We'll have the service this evening. Around six. There won't be too many people there. Probably just the two of us and maybe some friends of Mum and coworkers of Dad. Then tonight we'll come back here to give the orders to the workers.”

 

“Workers?”

 

“Yep. I'm having the house torn down and this plot of land turned into a pearling museum.”

 

“No shit?”

 

“Mhm. The Harrison and Lottie Historical Museum of Pearling, or something like that. I think they would both really like that. And the land is protected from having anything else built within a two mile radius. It's not much, but maybe that will ensure the plant life and beach view won't get obstructed by other shops or hotels that should try to pop up around here.”

 

“All of that sounds really fuckin' expensive.”

 

“Not much else to spend my money on now, is there?”

 

“What about me, dumbass?”

 

“We're going on a camel ride, remember?” I grinned. He looked mortifed.

 

“Can't we do something that isn't lame?”

 

“That's the other half of the plan.”

 

“What is?”

 

“We're taking a road trip.”

 

“When?”

 

“Early tomorrow morning.”

 

“To where?”

 

“You'll see.” He didn't take too kindly to my singing tone.

 

“Fuckin' tell me!”

 

“No!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It's a surprise!”

 

“I _hate_ surprises.”

 

“Oh, then you will _despise_ this one, mate.” I kissed his cheek and patted his ass.

 

We went on throughout the day. I showed him around Broome's shops and historical areas. We eventually ended up at the pearl farm my father worked at. It took some coaxing, but eventually I convinced Max to go in with me.

 

“Holy dooly! Is that who I think it is?”

 

Oh good god... I should've known I couldn't walk in here without seeing some of the old goons that worked with my dad. The one yelling was a man in his 60's by the name of Davey O'Hare. He was my father's best friend and he's known me since I was born.

 

“Couldn't tell ya, Davey. Last Oi heard,you'd gone halfway to nowhere with yer head and were away with the pixies. No tellin' who ya think Oi am, mate!”

 

He was in his sheet-plastic farming overalls and was soaked like he'd just come from scuba diving for Jones' locker. Even still, he came right up to me and clapped his arm over me shoulders and just laughed.

 

“Where ya been awl this toime ya bloody tosser? Out an' playing sillybuggers, muckin' around an' pissin' people awff loike y'awlways did, mate?”

 

“Somthin' loik that. M'job is very consumin' ya might say.”

 

“Whot? Y'say that loike pearlin' aint!”

 

“Not at awl, mate, not at awl. Diff'rent loin'a work is awl.”

 

“You're lucky Oi'm so nackered awl'a toime or Oi'd job ya for thinkin' you'sso much better 'an us pearlers out here jus' 'cause you got work elsewhere.”

 

“Now you know Oi don't think that way of ya, y'old coot.”

 

“Shut yer gob, ya ratbag or Oi'll put ya straight to work an' give those hands somethin' useful to do aside from polishin' yer knob.”

 

“What the fuck are you guys even sayin'?” Scout spoke up.

 

“Ah, Davey, this is Max. He's... a good friend of moine. Wanted to show 'im around the old place if ya don't moind.” _'Good friend?'_ Hell, I don't know if I'll ever get used to calling him what he really is in public. But _'boyfriend'_ just sounds so... childish. I needed to come up with a better title for him.

 

Max gave me a look but decided against saying anything. Instead, he shoved his hand out to Davey. “Hey, how's is goin? Max Robinson.”

 

“Where in the world are you from, mate? Haven't heard an accent loike that before.” Davey chuckled as he firmly shook Max's hand, Max no doubt returning the favor.

 

“Boston, Massachusetts. Over in the States. All of us sound about like this.”

 

“An American! I thought so! Where'd you pick him up, Wil?”

 

“Oi work with 'im.” It was strange calling what we do 'work.' But we get paid. So I guess that's what it is.

 

“He's not gotten out much has he? Scrawny as awl hell. Looks loike he couldn't lift a pillowcase without breakin' a sweat!”

 

“What?! Bullshit, old man! I could bench press your ass from here to Timbuktu! Don't you even think of callin' me weak!” That seemed to really hit a nerve with Scout.

 

“Nah, he's gotten out. Just not here. And he's a lot stronger than he looks. Plays baseball.”

 

“Baseball's an American sport for American _girls_. Hardly worth calling it a sport at all.”

 

Suprisingly, Max kept his cool, but was obviously very riled up by what Davey said. “ _Actually,_ the _girls'_ version of it is softball. The men that play baseball have to have incredible stamina and strength. It's a tough sport, old man. Even the girls that play softball have to be total hardasses when it comes to their athletic abilities.” I was genuinely surprised. That was actually a pretty intelligent-sounding response.

 

“What do you even play, kid?”

 

“Pitcher. And when I ain't on the defensive side of things, I'm swingin' home runs left and right. I'm the best there is.” He smirked.

 

Davey scoffed. “Well show 'im 'round, then. Fish 'im out some pearls! The main harvesting season is over, but we got a couple nets of late bloomers. Should have some nice big pearls. They're the older clams.”

 

“Got some extra jumpers around?” I walked into the main area of the building, Scout close behind.

 

“Awlways got jumpers for you, mate.”

 

I pulled on some rubbery overalls. Davey offered a pair to Max, which he promptly turned down. He needed to learn to live a little. I walked out on to the long, thin pier to where a handful of net racks were submerged in the cool water. I didn't once second guess myself about what I was doing. This was all second nature to me. I remember working long summers here with my Dad. I pulled one of the racks up and carried it back to the large tables inside. Some of the guys offered to take the rack from me.

 

“Get awffa me, ya buggers! Let me show ya how this is awl done.” Davey just stood back and smirked. He knew how good I was at this. I was miles better than most of the adults that worked here while I was still in grade school.

 

I pulled the clams from the net with ease. There were twelve total. Plenty enough for what I had in mind, assuming all the pearls were in good condition. Taking my time, I pulled one clam open and gracefully tugged the muscle-wrapped pearl free. I scraped the remaining meat into a large bowl on the table and tossed the shell aside in a separate bucket. I wiped the pearl clean and looked it over. It was quite big, about as wide as the tip of my thumb. Even without polishing, it shined dull pinkish-white. Yes, if all the pearls were like this, my little project would turn out great. I tossed the pearl to Max.

 

“Take a look at that beaut, Maxi!”

 

He looked it over carefully and smiled. “Wow, that's really pretty. I didn't know anything this nice came from an ugly shell thing in the water.”

 

“Clams, mate. They're living things.”

 

“That's even weirder.”

 

I shelled and gutted the next clam in a fraction of the time, now getting back into the swing of things. Four more in just a couple of seconds, each gut clean and neat. Leaving the shells spotless and the meat in one solid chunk. The older men and even Scout gathered around me.

 

“How'd you do that so fast?” One of the men remarked. I didn't recognize him, so he must have been new. Or at least new since the last time I was here. I didn't look up from my work and continued shelling clams.

 

“ 'Lotta practice. At's'awl, mate.” After a moment, all twelve clams were shelled, the men staring at me in awe.

 

“Mate, you just shelled twelve clams in under fifteen seconds. Y'sure you don't wanna come back and work for us?” One of the older men looked at me with wide eyes.

 

“Can't.” That's all they needed to know. I took the twelve slimy pearls in my hand, ditching the bucket all together and relieving Scout of his. Back in the washing room, I dumped them into and empty spinner, ran some water over them, and spun them out to get rid of the slime of the meat. After just a moment they were sparkling clean. From this point, most batches of pearls would go through rigorous sizing and quality assurance processes. But I liked all twelve of these quite well and skipped straight to drilling holes. I sat down at one of the drills and poked holes into all twelve almost as fast as I shelled the clams. The workers all followed behind me in their rubber overalls like squeaky ducklings. The huddled around me as I drilled.

 

“Lookit that, he didn't even have to mark where he wanted the holes.”

 

“And the drill's so smooth. Not jumpin' a bit.”

 

“He's better than any of the other drillers, and they've had years of practice.”

 

The comments they were all murmuring under their breath made me smile quietly to myself. Dad always liked to brag about how well I did at every single job on the pearling farm, but hearing it from others was really very nice.

 

I ran the pearls through a quick rinse to get rid of any pearl dust left behind from the drill. Then I pocketed all twelve and started taking off the overalls. The workers left, murmuring under their breath and returning to their work.

 

Davey, who'd been silently smirking and chuckling the whole time just gave me an odd look. “What are ya goin'a do with those, Wil?”

 

“Got moi own plans for 'em.”

 

He smiled. “You know, your father was a good man. And he was very proud of you, son. He talked about you all the time when he was here. 'Such a great pearler, that boy,' he'd say; 'I'd give anything for him to just come home and quit with awl that mercenary business.' Maybe he was right to think that way. But I think if you could'a, you'd have stayed here.”

 

“Sure I would.”

 

“But you got that itch in ya, boy. I've seen it. That restlessness. Ya gotta move 'round. Don't forget to come home to your roots now and then, awlroight?”

 

“Davey, my roots have all burned up and gone.”

 

“That may be true.”

 

I turned to leave with Max.

 

“Did you know,” Dave quipped with a smile, “that after forest fires, the ash fertilizes the ground so well that new plants spring up almost over night?”

 

I knew what he meant. He added, “The new plants grow best after the toughest and roughest storms.”

 

I smiled at him. “Will I see ya at the funeral tonight?”

 

“Not a chance. Your old man would kick my ass if he knew I went to see 'im off that way.”

 

“Yeah I suppose he would.” I wrapped my arm over Max's shoulder, who'd stayed conspicuously silent for most of this little venture. “I'll see y'around, Davey. Take care.”

 

“Kiss my arse.”

 

“You too, mate.”

 

 

We climbed back into the van (Max made a fuss about not wanting to walk everywhere, even though the pearl farm was only a couple of miles from the old house.) I let Max drive while I rummaged around in my drawers and cabinets, looking for the last pieces to my project. He was a surprisingly good driver, considering he had to get used to driving on the opposite side of the road. “You've been awful quiet, doll. What's eatin' ya?” I called to him from the back of the van.

 

“Just thinkin' is all.”

 

“What about?”

 

“None of yer business.”

 

“Sayin' it like that definitely makes it my business.”

 

“And how do ya figure that?”

 

“Because that means it's somethin' that's really buggin' you.”

 

“So what if it is?”

 

“I wanna hear it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“ 'Cause I care.”

 

“Ain't a good reason.”

 

“Just tell me.”

 

“No.”

 

I finally found what I was looking for. I pulled a roll of fishing line from one of my drawers and brought it with me up to the passenger's seat. I dug around and found my kukiri and cut a small length of line. Carefully, I threaded each pearl on the line. When all twelve were in place, I tied the ends together, tugged the ends with my teeth to tighten the knot, and cut the little excess bits of line off with my knife. Done! A stunning pearl bracelet. It didn't take long, but by the time I was done, we were back at the remnants of my house. Max threw the gearshift into park and huffed back into the seat. So he wanted to talk after all. I held the bracelet out to him.

 

“Here ya go, love.”

 

“What's this?”

 

“Whot I was makin' with the pearls. It's for you.”

 

He flushed a little. “I ain't one for jewelry, Snipes.”

 

“And I ain't one for givin' gifts. Just take it, awlroight? As thanks... for comin' with me. And as a reminder.”

 

“Of what?”

 

“That I love you.”

 

He took it and, surprisingly enough, actually slid it on to his right wrist then and there.

 

“Thanks. I'll take care of it.”

 

“But in return, I'd loike it if ya told me what's wrong.”

 

“Fine.” He sighed but sounded a lot more relaxed. “Just seein' you back there. Doin' all that pearl stuff. It was all so natural for you. You could've done really well workin' there. You're talented.”

 

“Yeah, so?” What was he getting at? I know I'm good, but why would that upset him?”

 

“You _chose_ to join BLU. I ain't talented. I can't do nothin' else.”

 

“Max, that's not true.” I hate people with self esteem problems. Reminds me too much of myself. “You've got plenty of talent.”

 

“You had a family that loved you, a girlfriend, a job you were good at, a town you loved. You had it all. Why would you give it up for a war in the middle of nowhere?”

 

I was starting to get it. “When Laura died, I couldn't stand to live here. Everything I did and everyone I saw reminded me of her. We grew up here together. The memories of her haunted me everywhere I went. So I took my van out to the bush and lived there for a while. But eventually I came home. To try to start over. But it wasn't the same. Mum and Dad weren't aging well. And pearling wouldn't afford them what they needed. And the town and the people still brought back awful memories. So, to kill two birds with one stone, I joined BLU. Great pay to take care of my family, and a very long way from home. From Laura.”

 

“So in the end, _you_ were runnin' too...”

 

“Whot?” I was lost again.

 

“You were runnin' from what hurt ya. Just like me.”

 

“Whatt'ya mean, mate?”

 

“I joined up with BLU to get away from my brothers. And from Boston. The fights in the streets weren't worth anything. I figured if I joined the war, I'd fight for a reason. Maybe then I could mean somethin' to my brothers. But I don't. Whenever I go home, they just laugh at me. They've got their girlfriends hangin' off their arms and their sports teams and talents and achievements. And then Ma's with that fuckin' Spy. I hate goin' home, Wil.” He thumbed his bracelet with his other hand. “I guess I'm just jealous that you had everything I ever wanted. But you left anyways.”

 

“Well Oi don't have any of that now.” I tipped his hat up and kissed his forehead. “Now awl I've got is what I need. And awl I've got is you.”

 

He leaned up and kissed my lips and we stayed there for a long time, just kissing. I couldn't wait to drag his scrawny ass out to Ayers Rock and show him what love is supposed to be like; none of that bullshit he went through before.

 

After a few more minutes, I thought of something. “Ah, Max, we need to get ready for the funeral. It's almost five now.” I got up and went to the back to the van to my little closet and pulled out the only suit I own. The jacket and pants were a dull gray-black. The undershirt had long since lost it's top couple of buttons, but I always wore it unbuttoned at the top anyways. I hate ties.

 

Scout looked at me wide-eyed. “Shit, I didn't think of that.”

 

“Of what?” I stripped and then replaced my old clothes with my suit.

 

“I don't have a suit. Or anything nice like that. I never brought my nice clothes to Teufort with me 'cause I never thought I'd need them.”

 

I looked myself over in the long mirror on the inside of the closet door. I always felt strange in a suit. I never looked like myself. The only thing that reminded me I was still me was my old hat and my glasses. I even swapped my boots for my single pair of black dress loafers. Satisfied with my appearance nonetheless, I went back up to the front of the van. “Hand me the wheel then, mate. We'll go into town and find you somethin' nice.”

 

After nearly an hour of shops, sizing, fitting, tailoring, and way too much protest from Max, he finally had a suit. He opted for a black suit like mine, but his jacket was shorter and his pants didn't flare out as much like mine. He also kept his undershirt buttoned up and decided to go with a tie. No wonder 'every girl's crazy for a sharp dressed man.' He looked brilliant.

 

Back in the van, he stood for quite a long time in front of the mirror, trying his best to comb his thick, dirty blonde hair into some manageable shape. When he was finally done, (by this point, we'd already been parked by the beach for several minutes and the funeral was due to start any time) he looked amazing. But even still, I hurried him along as we made our way down to the shore.

 

There were no chairs or anything, but I took a stab that the funeral was likely going to be held where the big crowd of people I vaguely knew were all standing around in nice clothes, chatting together. Just a guess, though.

 

I was right. As soon as they saw me approach, I was bombarded with open arms and condolences. A lot of them started crying when they saw me. I honestly hardly knew these people. There were some ladies that worked with mom, some men that worked with dad, (even some that I saw earlier in the day), and a handful of people who looked familiar but I couldn't for the life of me remember their names.

 

“Awlroight now, mates. Thanks for the kindness, but really, I'm awlroight.” Still they sobbed and cooed and hugged. Shake hands, hug, greet, rinse and repeat. So many people I didn't know but that seemed to know me. Hello, doing alright, thanks for the thoughts, good to see you, thanks for coming, yes it's hard, no I don't need anything, I'll let you know, hello... over and over. I felt like I was being rung through a meat grinder of misplaced affection. I could hardly breathe. Their weepy faces and muddled words clouded around me, choking my air and making my heart hurt. This was hard enough as it was. They were only suffocating me. Scout must have caught on to how I was feeling.

 

“HEY! Can't you see he's tryin' to get some air, here? Why don't you all just take a couple steps back and let the man have his funeral, okay? I gotta lotta respect for his ma and dad and a lotta respect for all'ya for comin' out tonight, and I do not want to have to beat the shit outta any of ya for bein' insensitive jerks to Wil. So just leave him be, alright?” Everybody stood back, some still crying, some in awe of how forcefully Max spoke to them. Being a stranger, I'm surprised they didn't try to kill him on the spot for telling them what to do.

 

I took a couple of deep breaths and leaned down to Max's ear. “Thanks, mate.”

 

“No problem. Now get this thing rollin'.” And he took his place in the crowd, front and center, and crossed his arms.

 

I turned around to speak to the reverend. He was a hunched little old man and was holding the very large urn that contained Mum and Dad. He'd done the weddings and funerals in my family for as long as I can remember, but I could never remember his name. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Reverend.” I shook his hand firmly.

 

“Of course, Wil. Your family is important to me.”

 

I smiled at him and turned to face the small audience. It just now dawned on me that I should probably have had a speech ready. “Thanks for coming, everybody. Lottie and Harrison would be thrilled to know you're here tonight.” I felt a knot in my throat. “I don't have much to say, to be honest. I didn't write a speech. And I don't think I could say anything that you don't already know about Mum and Dad. But I think I should say this:” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

 

“I never left Broome. I never left Mum and Dad. Not really.” Fuck it. I just the tears fall as they came. “My heart is here in Broome, here on Cable Beach, here in my parents' house, here in the bush, and here in this beautiful country.” I looked straight at Max. He was expressionless.

 

“It's here with my parents. And it will follow them out to the sea. But where their ashes stop, my heart will keep going. My heart, for the sake of my mother and father, has to go with me. I hope you all understand that when I leave Broome, when I leave Australia, I'm leaving because my heart needs for me to. I love all of you, if not on my own, then for loving my parents enough to show up tonight.”

 

As I looked out on the crowd, I saw Davey in the very back, hands in his pockets and looking very solemn. He nodded to me. “My parents were good people. Wonderful people. I hope they like what I've done tonight. I hope you all do, as well. And I hope they know I love them. And I hope they understand, and you understand, that when I leave, it's not out of malice or hatred or even despair. It's out of love. Love of my parents enough to see that the least I can do for them is be happy. Thanks for being here, everybody.”

 

The reverend said a prayer and I took my socks and shoes off and rolled up my pants to above my knees. I turned to Max and leaned close to him. “Wanna go out there with me, Max? Mum would want you to, bein' as close to me as you are.”

 

“What, really? I will if you really want me to, I guess.” He gave me a puzzled look.

 

“Sure. Just take your shoes off and roll your pants up.”

 

When he was ready, I took my hat and glasses off and set them in the sand. The reverend handed the urn to me and Max and I walked out into the water until it reached our knees and lapped at the edges of our rolled up pants. I opened the hinged lid of the urn and stared inside. The black ash, piled nearly to the top of the jar, smelled like ash from bush fires, camping in the outdoors, watching the stars, falling in love. They smelled like life. The scent of living in the ashes of death.

 

I let my tears fall into the ash. Max touched my arm. “Wind's pickin' up. Ready?”

 

I nodded and, carefully, I took a handful of ash and held it out to the ocean like a Christmas gift I knew was all wrong for the person receiving it. The wind took the ash and drug it out into the waves, leaving a faint trail of black in the foamy water. Max and I took turns handing out the ashes to the wind until there was hardly anything left. Then, I dipped the urn into the water as a strong wave surged forward and I let the water rinse out the back and bottom of the jar. Max took the urn and closed it up.

 

He smiled. “Let's go home.”

 

 

 

**_Scout_ **

 

 

The next morning, I woke up alone in the bed. The van was rumbling along the road. Jeez, I knew Wil wanted to leave early, but I figured he'd at least wake me up. I stood up, stretched, and walked up to the front of the van.

 

“Mornin', doll. Sleep well?”

 

“Yeah. You?”

 

“Couldn't sleep, really. Only got a couple hours in before I was up an' about. Figured you could sleep in while I got our road trip under way.”

 

“Can I know where we're goin' now?” I wouldn't ever tell him, but I was dying to know.

 

“Sure. We're going out to Ayers Rock.”

 

“We're going to see a rock?”

 

“If ya wanna call it that, yeah. It's more like a huge plateau. Basically, it's the only mountain-ey thing for miles once you get into central Australia.”

 

“What are we going out there for?”

 

“It's just one of those things you gotta see before you die.” He sounded like he was hiding something but I wasn't sure, so I didn't argue.

 

“How long till we get there?”

 

“Well, I've been driving for about four hours, so we've got about thirty left.”

 

Woah, did I hear that right? “ _Thirty hours?_ I'm stuck in this van for _thirty_ more hours? That's like... more than a day!”

 

“Don't worry, mate. You'll get to drive some of the way!”

 

“ _Great._ ”

 

After several failed card towers, clipping my finger _and_ toenails, and resorting to cleaning up the van a little, I was getting restless. “How much longer, Snipes?”

 

“Twenty-nine hours.”

 

“UGH,” After all that and I only burned _one_ hour? “Can I drive now?”

 

“Sure. I need to get a nap in.”

 

“Where's the directions?”

 

“No directions. Just follow this road. We're on Northern National Highway 1. We've got about four more hours on this road. If I'm not up by then, wake me up when you start seein' signs for State Route 5.”

 

“So just keep goin'?”

 

“Just keep goin'.”

 

“Alright, I can handle that.”

 

“I'd hope so.”

 

We swapped places and he slumped off to the little bed.

 

Fast forward about three and a half hours. I don't know how I did it, but I stayed behind that wheel for what felt like forever. And sure enough, I started seeing signs for Route 5.

 

“Hey, Wil!”

 

No answer. He was still out of it.

 

“ _Wil!_ Get up, _asshole!_ We're near Route 5 or whatever!”

 

He stirred under the blanket and after a minute, sat up, swung his legs over the side, stretched, and threw a tee-shirt on. He'd been sleeping in just pajama pants. “Awlready?”

 

“Already my ass! I've been driving for _forever!_ ”

 

He laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Here, swap with me.”

 

I turned over the wheel to him and took a seat on the passenger side. A few minutes later, we turned off onto another road.

 

“Here's the good part. We got about eleven hours on this road.”

 

“ _Wonderful._ ”

 

“If we keep at this pace, we'll be at Ayers Rock by sunrise tomorrow morning!”

 

I decided to sit with him for a while. We talked for a long time, shared some beers (not enough to get drunk; we were driving after all), enjoyed each other's company. It was nice. I love him, but it's great to be reminded that he's an awesome friend, too. Even if he does take me on stupidly long surprise road trips.

 

I fiddled with my new bracelet. It really was very pretty. I normally don't like pretty things. But the pearls reminded me of Sniper's smokey eyes and gleaming smile and for some reason I really liked it. I hated jewelry, but I loved this. It was him. Very him.

 

Six hours, a couple of beers, two piss-stops, and a lot of laughing later, we swapped seats. “Five more hours on this road. Keep an eye out for highway 87. When we get there, I'll drive the rest of the way and you can sleep.”

 

“Alright.”

 

He started going to the back of the van.

 

“Hey Snipes?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Mind stayin' up here with me for a while? It'll get boring as fuck real fast if I ain't got someone to talk to.”

 

“Sure thing.” He came back up with a deck of playing cards and sat down in the passenger seat. He leaned the seat back and propped up his feet on the dash and started absentmindedly shuffling the cards.

 

It was getting late in the afternoon. The sun was slowly falling and the dirt and grass was glowing in the orange light. There were a few trees here and there, but most of the plantlife was limited to shrubs and grasses and some flowers. It was wild. Back in Boston, there were trees all over the place. It was weird to see so few. Snipes and I talked more and drank a couple more beers. I drove and drove. We stopped a couple more times to pee and stretch our legs, but never for too long. Finally, I saw signs for highway 87 and Wil and I swapped places one more time. I slumped off to the back of the van and passed out on the bed.

 

When I woke up in the morning, the sun was shining through the tiny windows. The van door was swung open and the thick scent of coffee and meat was enticing enough that I could've jacked off to the smell. Okay, maybe not. But it smelled really good. I rolled out of bed and went to the doorway.

 

There was Wil. He was sitting on a rock, his back to me, tending a small fire and sipping on his mug of coffee. He had his glasses on, but not his hat; His button-up merc shirt, but no vest or pants, just his boxers. Time for some payback.

 

I crept as quietly as I could up behind him and waited for him to take a sip and...

 

“BOO!”

 

“WHOT'N FAHK'S NAME-” He jumped and nearly spilled his mug as he spit his coffee out. “Goddammit Max! You scared the fuck outta me!”

 

I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and around his neck and I buried my nose into his hair. “Shouldn't turn your back on me, then.”

 

He smirked. “Com'ere y'liddle gremlin!” He grabbed my arms and pulled me down into his lap. “I could'a woke ya up when we first got here an' made ya watch the sun come up. Next time I won't be so nice.”

 

I nuzzled into his shirt. He smelled wonderful for not having a real shower in about three days. “What time is it?”

 

“About eight.”

 

“So we're here?”

 

“We're here.”

 

“So is _this_ the rock?” I smirked and pointed to the little stone he was sitting on.

 

“Heh. Look behind us, Max.”

 

I sat up and looked over Wil's shoulder. Holy shit. That was one _huge_ rock. It was a striking brownish-red, sharp against the clear blue sky and it towered above everything. It looked like a big brownish blob of mud that somebody smacked flat on top. There was a lot of golden grass and bushes around, but Wil was right. It was the only actual thing for as far as I could see. It was bizarre.

 

“Wow, Snipes. How'd something that big even get someplace like this?”

 

“Mother Nature is a little confusing in her ways sometimes, I suppose. What's even more confusing is why I put up with you, ya liddle bugger.” He grinned and kissed me.

 

“What's all this affection for? Did I get extra handsome overnight? Is the beauty sleep workin'?”

 

“Oh yeah, mate,” He rested one hand on my thigh, really close to my ass. He kissed my neck and it made me shiver. “You're getting' more attractive by the minute. I can barely contain myself.”

 

His voice oozed sarcasm, but I silently really wanted there to be some truth to that. I adjusted my glasses and stood up, interrupting his kissing. My stomach growled. “What's cookin', Snipes?”

 

He gave me a short groan for stopping him, but cheered up easy enough. “Some beef I brought with us for the trip. When I lived out here on my own, I'd eat what I'd catch. Anything from wallaby to rattlesnake. But I figured this would be easier.”

 

“Good, 'cause I wasn't gonna eat no snakes or nothin'.” Snakes? Ain't enough meat on those things for an infant, let alone me.

 

We ate and drank and talked. Then it occurred to me that I couldn't see the road. Where were we? “Hey, Snipes? Why ain't there more people out to see this thing? And where's the road?”

 

“Road's about a klick closer to the rock. That's where all the people are. I wanted us to have some privacy.”

 

Privacy? For what? I decided not to ask. Maybe he just wanted to be able to walk around in his boxers without having to worry about people looking at him. I'm okay with that. I'll do enough looking for all of them.

 

We went about the day. Eventually, we both got dressed. He cooked some more food, made one of those Aussie Damper things, we played cards, drank a lot of beer (or I did; He's not much of a drinker.) We watched some kangaroos hop around the landscape. He pitched some balls to me, and then he tried to hit while I pitched. He wasn't very good, but he _did_ hit a few at least. We talked a long time. Eventually, the sun started setting. Wil cooked a good dinner and we drank some water to dilute all the beer we'd had. The stars started coming out. And kept coming. And holy shit. By the time the sun went all the way down, there were more stars in the sky than there were lights in the New York skyline.

 

Wil had disappeared somewhere, but I was too lost in the sky to really notice.

 

Why wasn't he here enjoying this with me?

 

It was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. All of that happened. In one chapter. Anyways. On to the next chapter. Which is the one you'll actually WANT to read...


	9. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS THE REASON THIS FANFIC IS NOW RATED "EXPLICIT." It contains explicit depictions of consensual intercourse between our two main characters. If you do not want to read this chapter, that is A-OKAY. This chapter has very little to do with the plot. I purposefully wrote it that way so that no reader had to cringe their way through the sex to gather important plot points. All you need to know is that sex was had, they were pleased with the outcome.
> 
> If you like reading sex scenes and are into these two as a sexual couple, feel free to read on!
> 
> My Beautiful Blue Sky - Moby

**_Sniper_ **

 

I laid out a big blanket beside the fire. “Y'awlroight with sleepin' out here tonight?” I looked over at Scout, who was sitting a few feet off in the dust looking up at the sky.

 

“Out here? Under this?” He pointed up to the sky, waving his finger across the millions of stars and around the shape of the Milky Way, now clearly visible in the full darkness of the night. “Fuck beds. I'd sleep under this any night.”

 

“Now you see why I loike it out here?” I sat beside him and draped my arm across his shoulders.

 

“Yeah. What I don't see is why you'd ever leave.”

 

“Needed the money.”

 

“If I lived here, I wouldn't leave for all the money in the world.”

 

“I didn't wanna leave. But I needed mum and dad to be well taken care of.”

 

He was silent for a minute and leaned into my shoulder.

 

“Now that they're... gone... are you gonna come back here for good?” He sounded desperately sad.

 

“Wot, loike... settle down?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Hell, I don't know. Until you, I could've answered that question no problem.”

 

“Whattaya mean?”

 

“Well, I got you to think of now. If you wanted to live out here with me... hell, that'd be a huge change for you, Max. And I don't think it'd sit too well with your mum.”

 

“Me? Wait you were actually thinkin' of stayin' with me? Even once you move back here?”

 

“Why wouldn't I? But loike I said, it depends on if you'd want to.”

 

“I guess I just didn't think too far past Christmas and stuff. I never thought you'd really wanna stay with me. Nobody else wanted to.”

 

“Nobody else loved you. At least not like I do.”

 

“You really wanna stay with me?”

 

“Wouldn't have it any other way, Maxi. When're ya gonna learn that I'm not just gonna up and leave one day? I love you.” I held him tighter and kissed his head. “I wouldn't trade ya for all the clear nights in the Bush.” I leaned down and looked through his glasses and into his eyes. Even in the dark, I could see how beautifully clear blue they were. I caught his lips in mine. _Now or never, you old coot._ I thought to myself.

 

I brushed my tongue over his lips and, after moment of hitched breath, he kissed me back, strong and open. His tongue was unbearably warm as he drug it along the backs of my teeth and made me shudder. He'd certainly had practice with french kissing. I shoved images of Astor giving him 'pointers' out of my head as fast as they entered.

 

Max started leaning into the kiss more strongly and he grabbed at the back of my shirt. _Don't get ahead of me now, kiddo._ I broke the kiss and grabbed his hands and drug him to his feet. “Why don't we head over here, darlin'?”

 

“Sure, what're we doin'?”

 

“Gettin' you undressed, first of awl.”

 

“Woah like... all the way? But we're outside!”

 

“Nobody watchin' but the animals. Don't worry. We'll fit roight in.” I winked at him and, with my hand laced together with his, we walked back to the blanket. I turned to him and very carefully, I slid his glasses off and set them aside. “You ready?”

 

“For what?”

 

“It's the middle of the night under the most beautiful sky in the world. We're on a blanket by a fire and we're in love. You've got three guesses and the first two don't count.” I grinned at him. “Here's a hint: You've never done it before.”

 

He actually stopped to think about it.

 

“Umm... OH! _Naked charades!_ I have _never_ played naked charades.”

 

“...Whot? 'Naked cha-'...” He's kidding, right? No... no, he's not kidding. Well, I guess that would work. “Sure, close enough, Max.”

 

I slipped my hands under his shirt and ran my fingers up his stomach and across his chest. His skin was so smooth and cool against my palms. I was suddenly wracked with nervousness. I have to make sure everything is perfect for him. Nothing he doesn't want. Nothing without his permission. This would be _his_ first time, not mine. So it needs to be everything he ever wanted and nothing he would regret. I felt my hands start to shake against his skin. I haven't been this nervous in a very long time.

 

I kissed his cheek and pulled his shirt off, leaving it off to the side of the blanket. I'd seen him shirtless before, in the showers usually. But now that I had him to myself, I took the time to really take in his form. He was thin but toned. He had the boniest shoulders I'd ever seen. He could register those things as lethal weapons. He had a dark tan on his arms, but his body was fairly pale from his shirt, as were his wrists and hands from always being wrapped up. I kissed the nape of his neck.

 

“We ain't playin' naked charades, are we?”

 

“Not if you're up for the original plan.”

 

“The real thing, huh?”

 

“Mmhm.” I traced my fingers up and down his back and hummed into his neck. “But only if you're ready.” He shivered under my fingertips. “You're in charge, Max. I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with.”

 

“Do your worst, piss-junkie. I'm ready for ya.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around me and pulled my shirt off. His fingers were icy against my skin. I wondered if he was always this cold. Or if _I_ was always this _warm._

 

My hands were still shaking as I slid my fingers across his stomach and tucked them into the waistband of his shorts. He kissed me and started fumbling with the button of my pants. I leaned into his lips and drug him down onto the blanket. Straddling his hips, I took his face in my hands and I bared down harder on his mouth and wrapped my tongue together with his and he let out the sweetest moaning sound. _Goddamn_ if I don't get these fucking pants off, I'll kill over from cutting off blood circulation. He was still fiddling with the button. Looks like his hands are shaking worse than mine. I pat them out of the way and undo my own pants, slide them off and set them in the growing pile of clothes. All that's left is my boxers. Fuck it. Those ended up on the pile, too.

 

My God I haven't been this turned on in my whole goddamned life. Max just laid there, looked me up and down and grinned ear to ear. He was absolutely gorgeous in the light of the fire. He licked his lips. “I figured you were well-hung, but damn, Wil. That's hot.”

 

Somehow it took me a moment to gather that he meant my dick. I was never one to brag, but I always knew I was pretty well endowed. It took a long time for Laura to get used to it. I shoved those thoughts out of my head even faster than the ones about Astor.

 

“Yeah well, I'm naked and you're not. Let's see what you got, hm mate?” I tugged at the zipper of his shorts, silently grateful he was in street clothes and not those ridiculous pants he wore for fighting. Fuckin' Pan's Labyrinth of clothing is what those were. I slid the shorts over his hips, taking his boxers with them. He won't need them. I threw them on the pile. Well, at least we wouldn't have to go looking for our clothes later.

 

This time, I got the chance to do the looking. I sat back on my heels, between Max's legs, and looked him over. His hips were just as boney as his shoulders. Under his naval, a thin line of dark hair trailed all the way down to his groin. Funny, I never thought of him as having too much hair. But I decided I liked that he had more than I expected. He wasn't bad off in the cock department, himself. He probably matched me in length, but girth came with body type, and I was just a bigger built guy than him. His was attractive though. I'd never know any man's penis to ever be considered an attractive part of his body, but his was. He had smooth, pale skin all the way up to his head, now wet from being turned on. By me, I guess. Hell, this whole gay thing is still a little weird to me. But my body must be fine with it because I don't think I've ever been harder in my life. I felt things looking at this young man that I've never felt in my whole life. Not once.

 

I whistled. “You, Maximilion, are breathtaking.”

 

**_Scout_ **

 

 _Fuck,_ Wil was hot. Like, I don't even know how he's managed to stay single so long. The man is chiseled out of the sexiest goddamn stone. He had as much of a farmer's tan as me, but his skin was still darker than mine. He had a barrel chest and washboard abs that could kill a man if he looked at 'em too long. He had more hair from his chest to his dick than I probably had on my whole body. Speaking of dicks, I ain't kiddin'. Wil's big. In every way. I don't know if that thing would fit in my ass, but if it does, it is going to feel amazing. And then terrible in the morning, that is, if I can move after this. And he calls _me_ breathtaking?

 

“Yeah, I'm hot. I know. You're not too bad, yourself, old man. Now are we gonna sit here and compare dicks or are we gonna fuck?”

 

“You asked for it, kid.” He leaned into me smashed his mouth on mine and I don't think we stopped kissing for probably ten minutes. He kept his hands busy all over my body, touching places I didn't know felt so good to be touched. Like the tops of my hips and the sides of my ribcage. I took my time stroking his chest and back and eventually, I built up a lot of nerve and my hand found its way to the base of his cock and I gave it a firm tug. His reaction was absolutely perfect.

 

“Ah, fahck, Max...” He broke our kiss and buried his face into my neck and cursed.

 

“What?” I kept stroking and chose a rhythm to match.

 

“Fahcking bloody hell... chroist that feels... fahck. Goddamm brilliant.” He hissed into my neck and laced his hand in my free one and dug his other hand into my hair. I could get off on getting him off. That is how hot he is. That's insane, ya know? I was getting ridiculously hard from just listening to his voice in my ear, knowing he was getting off because of me.

 

“Good.”

 

“Keep it up an' you'll have me done b'fore Oi can bang ya.” His accent started getting really thick. I loved it.

 

“Well let's get to it then, Snipes.”

 

He stopped and looked around for a minute. “Aw fahck...”

 

“What?”

 

“Oi forgot the lube. It's in the van.”

 

“Well go get it. I can wait.”

 

“I'm goin'.” He stood up and walked over the van and stepped inside.

 

“Hey, Wil?”

 

“Yeah?” He poked his head out of the door.

 

“Bring a pillow? And an extra blanket?”

 

“Anything else, _Master Robinson?_ ” He smirked.

 

“That'll be all, _Jeeves._ ” I lazily stroked my own cock and winked at him.

 

“Wankah...” He disappeared.

 

After a minute he was back with a blanket and pillow and a half-empty bottle of lube. I guess he jacked off with it, too? He sat the blanket aside and threw the pillow on my face. I put it behind my head and went back to handling my dick, patiently awaiting my time of ass-reckoning. I sincerely hoped that I didn't look as nervous as I was. I think I wouldn't have been as nervous if I knew I'd be pitching, but as Gaylord-in-chief, I figure it's only fair to let Wil do the fucking, since that's what he's used to, what with only being with women before and all. Something told me I'd have to do a lot of convincing to let me be the man in bed next time.

 

He interrupted my thoughts with a hard kiss. I leaned up into him and he pressed his body hard against mine, bucking his hips into me and letting his dick rub lightly against mine. I couldn't keep my mouth shut and moaned against his lips.

 

He leaned up on his knees and curled his fingers into my hair and kissed my cheek. “You ready now?”

 

“Fuck yeah... it's about damn time.” I was a little surprised at how out of breath I was already.

 

“And preference in position?”

 

“There's more than one?”

 

“Oh darlin' there's about a million positions.”

 

“What, really?” How the hell was I supposed to know?

 

“I'll make it simple to start with. Missionary or doggy? Those are the two basics.”

 

“Oh... I know those.” I forgot doggy style existed. But I still didn't have a clue about all the others he was talking about. I guess I'd learn eventually.

 

“Pick your poison, mate.” He grinned at me.

 

“Umm... which is easier to start with?”

 

“I'm partial to doggy, myself. Better maneuverability.”

 

“That, then.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah.” Fuck, get on with it.

 

“Turn over then, ya beaut.” He patted my hip.

 

I rolled over and propped myself up on all fours and suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. It was weird not seeing his eyes anymore. I sort of wanted to see his face. “Hey, can we switch to regular halfway through? I don't think I'd finish facing away from you.” I probably could, but that was the only non-pussy way I could think of to say that I wanted to see his face.

 

I heard him pop open the lid of the lube tube. “Of course, darlin'.”

 

Peeking over my shoulder, I saw him slicking up his fingers. He glanced at me as he ran his fingers along the base of my dick, across my balls and up the inside of the crook of my butt. I shivered. That stuff was cold. “Let's warm ya up, hm?” He read my mind. He got up all the way on his knees and wrapped his free hand around me and held it on my chest. “Ready?”

 

This time I actually took a second to breathe and think. Yes. I was definitely ready. “Yeah.”

 

He slipped one finger inside me and I swear I thought I'd blow then and there. I gasped as he felt around inside me.

 

“Loosen up a little.”

 

I tried to relax and I leaned back into his hand a little.

 

“There ya go, Max.” I felt him lean into me and kiss my lower back. He felt around a little more and then slipped in a second finger and started stretching things out. The cold lube quickly warmed up and I was reeling. I leaned down onto my elbows and moaned. He started pushing his fingers farther and farther back. Goddamn I didn't know his fingers were so fucking long. He leaned into me again and this time he let his fingers touch the farthest point they'd reach and- _Holy shit._

 

I curled against him and bit my tongue to keep from being too loud, even though it didn't really matter.

 

He growled at me. “Did I hit a sweet spot there, love?” I looked over my shoulder. He had the biggest fucking grin. He fucking knew what he did. He _knew._

 

“Did I say stop, asshole?”

 

“Ooh, bossy liddle ankle-boiter aren't ya?” He flicked his fingertips inside me and I couldn't keep the noises from coming out of my mouth. Fuck I didn't even know I could make sounds like that. He drug his free hand down my stomach and wrapped his fingers around my dick and gave me a couple of firm strokes. Fuck, this was way too much for one guy to deal with. I don't know how I kept from creamin' myself then and there.

 

“Ready for the real deal, Maxi?”

 

“Yeah... Oh, yeah.” I clung to the pillow.

 

I felt him reposition himself behind me, standing on his knees. I heard him handling the lube again and I couldn't help but shudder at the soft pressure of him leaning his dick against my ass. He put his hand on my back.

 

“Lean down, darlin'. You can't be all arched up for this.” I hadn't even realized I'd arced my back upwards so high I looked like a damn Halloween cat. I let my back loosen up.

 

“Now just relax, okay?”

 

“Sure.”

 

He leaned into me, this time letting his dick slide smoothly into me. Once the initial discomfort of skin stretching and the wild feeling of shitting backwards had ended, he settled in and it felt fantastic.

 

“Crikey...” I heard him mutter under his breath what I could only assume was a string of Australian swear words of the best kind.

 

I leaned back into him and he swore a little louder. All that stuff that the handful of experienced gay guys I'd ever talked to (which wasn't very many) said about how you can only describe ass-sex as feeling weirdly 'full' was right. It was such a weird feeling. But as Wil slowly started moving back and forth, weird gave way to fantastic pretty quickly.

 

I felt more noises escape from my throat, but I didn't notice them. Wil grabbed on to my hips. “How're ya feelin', Max?” His voice was a low growl and I could tell he was having trouble sounding coherent.

 

“Great... Fucking _fantastic._ ” It was hard to find the words, but that told him enough. He started thrusting a little faster and firmer. He wound one hand under me again and started working with my cock. He stroked it hard in time with his thrusts. “Oh, god... _Fuck._ ”

 

I felt Snipes lean into me and he kissed my back all over, as far as he could reach, humming and cursing into the kisses. He stroked and moved harder and faster. And I was getting dangerously close to finishing.

 

“Fuck, Wil... I... Switch, man.”

 

He slowed his movements and caught his breath. “ 'Kay... swing your leg this way. If we're careful, we can do this without separating.”

 

I carefully curled my left leg sideways and slowly, slowly I rolled to my side, then my back and sure enough, we switched to missionary without him coming out of me.

 

“Good?” He smiled down at me. His face was flushed and his eyes were wild. Fuck, I'm glad I made us swap positions. He was so hot like this.

 

“Yeah. Perfect.” I grabbed his neck and pulled his face so close to mine our noses touched. “Now, fuck me.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

He started at it again, thrusting harder and faster than before, his hips moving a mile a minute and his hand on my cock going even faster, but his eyes never left mine. I was so, so close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, but kept my eyes trained on him. The kiss sent me over the edge.

 

I bit down on his lip and some kind of animal sound came from the bottom of my throat as I came onto his belly and chest. A moment later, Wil ducked into the nape of my neck and murmured into my ear for a couple more stokes, finally finishing with a strong, deep, gutteral moan.

 

We parted and he flopped over beside me and pulled the second blanket up over us. He tucked his arm under my neck and pulled me close. I scooted as close to him as I could get and took in his gunpowder smell.

 

“Well, Max? How was it?”

 

“Perfect.” I smiled into his skin. “Best game of naked charades, _ever_. Hands down. No contest.”

 

He chuckled and hugged me tight. “Good. I'm glad.”

 

“What about for you?”

 

“Brilliant.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Wanna be on top next time?”

 

“You'd let me?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Fuck yes.”

 

Oh, I _could not wait_ for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE CHAPTER UPDATE! ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE FANFIC!
> 
> Plane rides, funerals, pearl farms, and sex. All in one big two-chapter update. And tobor just dropped. 
> 
> Two new chapters and a new robot gamemode all in one 24 hour period! What more could you ask for?
> 
> A vacation in a cabin in the mountains and a trip to a theme park, that's what.
> 
> So you won't be seeing anymore updates for at LEAST four days. (Lol like I ever updated that fast before anyways.) The point is, I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow and taking a break from writing.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the thickening plot and the sickening smut. (The first sex scene I've ever written! Oh boy!) Until I get back, cheers!


	10. Brethren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to anyone who's been following this story for how long it took to update it. I have all the other chapters planned out so hopefully I can update it more often. 
> 
> Nothing too exciting here, but we do meet Max's family.

 

_**Scout** _

 

The next couple of days were blurry and boring. Just when we got back to Broome, Snipes turned around and tossed me on a red-eye flight. He kissed me and held me tight, told me to have fun and that he'd see me soon and just like that, he was gone.

 

The flight was long and boring and stupid. I was tearing my hair out before we even got to cruising altitude. Everyone was sleeping, curled up with their shitty airplane pillows and stiff blankets. I tried my best to sleep, but the thought of going home and possibly seeing that shitty Spy and all my brothers was just unsettlin'. Every time I shut my eyes, all I saw was that Spy touchin' Ma and puttin' on his backstabbing douchebag charms, makin' her laugh and coming up with lies so she doesn't learn who he really is.

 

I just wanted to stay with Snipes.

 

Finally, I managed to sleep, but it wasn't a very solid sleep. I woke up a lot and couldn't decide if I wanted to keep the air vent on so I could breathe but freeze my balls off, or if I wanted to turn it off so I could suffocate comfortably. When we finally landed in Boston, I was up getting my duffle bag before the captain even had the seatbelt light off.

 

I trudged off the plane and into the terminal. Ma wasn't there. Normally she and at least a couple of my brothers were there to pick me up. Maybe they were just running late. Traffic and all that.

 

I paced a few times in between the long rows of seats. Surely they'd be here soon. They wouldn't make me catch a cab into town, right? Nah, Ma wouldn't do that to me.

 

Some asshole cleared his throat really close to me. I reeled around, “The fuck do you want, buddy?”

 

“I came to pick you up, _Maximilion_.” Six inches from my nose was Julius, that damned RED spy. Of course he would be here. That's my luck after all. “I see you've acquired a new accessory. It seems our Scout did quite a number on you, hm?” He chuckled under his breath. I felt my face heating up.

 

“Why the hell are _you_ here, you creep? Where's Ma?” Surely she's here. Surely she wouldn't just send this asshole.

 

“Your mother is quite busy making Thanksgiving supper. She asked me to do the favor of picking you up. Now we'd best get a move on. We don't want to keep her waiting, do we, Maximilion?” There's that sly grin he only uses when he knows he's pissin' me off. .

 

The drive back to the house was silent. I watched out the window and daydreamed about Wil. Julius played a French jazz CD on loop and chain-smoked the whole way. I got to thinking about it and I realized it'd be pretty weird for me to just show up on for Christmas with Wil all 'oh hey, Ma, this is Wil, my boyfriend, I'm gay by the way, ha ha funny story...” So it looks like I'm gonna have to tell everybody today.

 

After about an hour, we pulled up to Ma's house. There were six other cars already there, one for each of my brothers- except the twins who literally did everything together, including sharing a car. They were all piled into the driveway and lead out into the road. Julius parked along the curb behind Markus' car. I knew it was his because it was the only solid black one covered in emo and death metal band stickers. Very Markus.

 

Ma's house, the house I grew up in with my brothers, is as normal as they come. A little ranch house with three bedrooms and a fenced in yard. It's in one of the more suburban areas on the outskirts of Brooklyn. I remember the long bike rides I'd take to get to the center of the city, of the action. And I remember every time I was in trouble or I was getting chased by thugs or wanna-be bullies, as soon as I locked that gate behind me I felt like I was behind an impenetrable force field. Nobody would dare cross into Robinson territory. Not when they knew the rest of the crew was waiting on the doorstep or just inside. Nobody had that strong of a death wish.

 

It was already getting pretty cold in Brooklyn. There was a little snow on the ground, barely covering the piles of dead leaves. The wet crunch my footsteps made was familiar and satisfying. I'm pretty used to the cold, but I had to admit I was a little chilly. I forgot to pack warm clothes for this half of the trip.

 

Julius and I stepped through the gate and I locked it behind me out of habit. Inside the force field. I was starting to feel a little nervous, knowing I was going to have to confront my whole family soon.

 

As we stepped up onto the porch, Julius tossed his cigarette into a slushy puddle by the drainpipe. There was a little pile of cigarette butts already there. At least he has the decency to smoke outside. Any time any of my brothers smoked, Ma was super strict about the “outside only” rule. I think only Joseph and Markus kept up the habit.

 

I opened the front door and the thick smell of Ma's cooking washed over us in a tidal wave of deliciousness. The warm salt and pepper smell of turkey, the creamy aroma of buttery mashed potatoes, the freshness of cranberry and the onioney scent of Ma's killer stuffing were just a few of the foods I could pick out.

 

We stepped into the entry way and I could immediately see, and hear, most of my brothers in the den arguing about baseball. Their heated chatter mixed with the clanking of dishes in the kitchen on top of the glorious smells, good God I'm home.

 

No one noticed us, so I crept toward the den, past the two guest bedrooms that we used to split between the eight of us and the one bathroom we all shared, and leaned against the entry frame. Nobody sees me. Johnathan, the oldest of us, 31 now if I remember right, is at the end of the sectional, hands behind his head and quietly spectating. He's cut his hair shorter, but kept his scruffy 9 o'clock shadow look.

 

Joseph, a year younger, is shouting about a shitty call made by an umpire. He looks strikingly similar to John, but a bit cleaner cut than he used to be. I doubt he's matured out of John's shadow though.

 

Alex and Arnold, the twins a year younger than Joseph, are sitting on the floor across from each other with the ottoman between them playing a card game. They both had shoulder length hair, but Arnold had his pulled up.

 

Quincy, two years younger than the twins and our adopted brother, was the one arguing with Joseph, defending the umpire's call. I guess if you didn't know us, you wouldn't know he's related. His skin's only a little lighter than Demoman's and his hair is just as thick and curly. He kept it pulled back most of the time. Ma says Quin's biological mother was a really good friend of her's and she'd made Ma Quin's godmother before he was born. She died in childbirth, so naturally Ma came home with him and that made five Robinson boys.

 

Peter, who was born shortly after Quincy, wasn't around, as usual. We call him “the lost boy” because he's almost never around. Hes always the last to know about everything.

 

Markus, just a year older than me, was tucked in the corner of the sectional with buds in his ears and his nose in a book. His hair was fried from overdying but that didn't seem to stop him from keeping it the darkest shade of black on the market, accented by a section of bright red in the front. Thick eyeliner and all black clothes, just the way he was when I left last time, though I think his clothes are considerably more studded now.

 

And then there's me. The youngest and shortest. They still hadn't noticed me. Christ, am I invisible or something?

 

“ _Ahem._ ” I cleared my throat as loudly as I could. Everyone stopped and looked at me. “So,” I grinned, “ _who's_ on first?”

 

All together they shouted a big raucous hello in some form or another. Even Peter peeked around the doorway from the dining room where he must've been hiding and said hey. But none of them were as loud as Johnathan.

 

 _“MAX!!”_ He pulled me into a strong hug. “How'ya been, lil' bro? It's been quiet without you around.”

 

I wrenched out of his grasp. “ _How?_ Finally learned how to tune out Joseph?”

 

“Nah-”

 

“We don't live together anymore.” Joseph interrupted, almost hatefully, like he wasn't happy about the situation. “I got my own place now.”

 

“Oh, shit! Little Joey's letting go of big brother John?” I was genuinely surprised. Joseph has tagged along behind John their whole lives.

 

“Yeah,” John sighed, “I finally kicked him out. My girlfriend was moving in and I couldn't have him being a big slob around her.”

 

I was gonna ask about his girlfriend but I was interrupted.

 

“ _IS THAT MY MAXIMILLION I HEAR?”_

 

John shrunk back, “Uh-oh, incoming mom!”

 

Ma came rushing around the corner faster than I'd ever seen her move and in an instant she'd pulled me into her arms. I instinctively froze, but the familiarity and feeling of safety that came with Ma's hugs never wore off and I relaxed and hugged her back. “Hi, Ma.”

 

“Oh, Max, I have been so worried about you.” She pulled back, “What happened? Since when did you get glasses?”

 

“Oh, I uh,” I'd forgotten all about that.

 

“Yeah I was wondering that myself, Max.” Quincy piped up and the rest of my brothers all added in their own curious thoughts about my glasses.

 

“I was out on the field,” I started loudly so everyone would shut up, “and this other guy got a hold of my bat, my _own_ bat, and swung it,” I made a big, fierce swinging motion, “right into my face. He hit me so hard, it permanently damaged my eyesight, so if I wanna keep fighting, I have to wear these.” I shrugged. I didn't mind them so much anymore.

 

Ma's jaw dropped. “Oh my God, Max! Are you okay?”

 

“Well I'm here, ain't I?” I smiled and put my hand on her shoulder to try to reassure her nothing else was wrong with me. “And, listen guys, that's not super important when I got this other news for you.” Everyone looked at me expectantly.

 

“I'm seeing somebody now!” I grinned. They'd always joked that I'd never find anyone.

 

There was a collective noise of surprise from the group followed by an indecipherable string of questions like “what is she like?” and “how did you meet?” and “is she a fighter, too?” and about five different times I heard “is she hot?” and I suddenly realized I wasn't quite ready to talk about this.

 

“Ah, I uh, I'll tell everyone all about it over dinner.”

 

I managed to avoid talking about my love life for the remainder of the afternoon, settling on the couch next to Markus, and easing into comfortable conversation with the rest of my brothers. They helped catch me up on all the baseball news, and I told them stories about fights on the battlefield. None of my brothers ever opted for a life in the military, so firsthand accounts of war, especially of one that has never and will never be in the news, have always excited them, and I enjoy being the center of attention most of the time.

 

We finally sat down for dinner, Ma and Julius in the middle on one side of the long table, and, as Ma insisted, John and Joseph on the ends. I sat right across from Ma.

 

As soon as everyone had their plates made, John spoke up, “So tell us about this girl, Max!”

 

“Indeed, Maximillion,” Julius spoke to me for the first time since we'd left the airport, “I'd _also_ like to hear about this... _development_ in your life.” He gave me a smug smile.

 

The rest of the table erupted into speculation and accusation about my “girlfriend” and I could barely hear myself think.

 

“HEY, CAN EVERYBODY SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE?!” I strained to be heard over the noise. “Before I get to that, I got something to say.” Everyone got quiet and look at me.

 

“What is it, dear?” Ma gave me a funny look.

 

I very suddenly felt like I needed to throw up. I was starting to regret deciding to spill the beans so soon and I wish I'd taken the time to prepare myself more. I'd never told anyone but Wil about being gay. And I remember how nervous I was to tell him. But this is so much more nerve wracking.

 

I took a deep breath. It's now or never. Except now that they know I'm dating someone, never isn't an option.

 

“This is something I've had on my chest for a long time, 'cause I wasn't sure how you guys would take it. But I realize now that I can't hide it forever, especially now that I'm with somebody.”

 

I took another deep breath and glanced around the table, locking eyes with Markus, who gave me a subtle nod, like he already knew what I was going to say. My hands were shaking and my head was spinning. _Just spit it out!_

 

“I'm gay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. <3


	11. The Hungry Heart, The Roving Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is "Without Question" by Elton John.
> 
> We'll get back to the longer chapters soon.

_**Sniper** _

 

I won't lie, putting Max on that plane was tough. Not only knowing I'd miss him, but also knowing that he was going home to a warm, loving family; Something I'll never do again. Part of me wanted to go with him just to be able to walk through the doorway of a house that isn't just a charred frame. A place with more than just memories inside the walls.

 

But he deserves to go home to that.

 

But then again, so do I.

 

As I was leaving the airport, the first time I'd been truly without him around in several months, the reality of my situation came crashing into me like a stampede. _I am in love with a kid. A young, stupid kid. I had_ sex _with a young, stupid, virgin boy. He is tied to me for the rest of his life._

 

I suddenly had to find a bench in the food court and sit down. _Am I in love with him? I am, aren't I?_ The last thing I need was to be questioning this after I'd already shacked up with him. After I'd already let him get so close. But I felt a sudden wave of doubt rush over me. Was it just lust? Loneliness? Just longing for company after being alone for so long? That's no reason to get into a relationship with someone. Not long term.

 

This crushing doubt shook me to the core, rattled my bones like I'd just been in a car wreck, stirred up a dread I'd never felt before. A disbelief and a distrust in myself that I'd never known. _I've never really even bee interested in another guy before._ Of all the things to be worried about, that was the least of all of them. But I resolved to internally consider myself at least bisexual, after all, I definitely still found women very attractive. I couldn't just shut it off.

 

I propped my elbows on my knees and rested my head in my hands and thought about my life to this point. How many times had I thought a guy was attractive? _There was that boy in grade school that I always wanted to tussle with but I didn't figure out why until I was older. The boy in high school that I had to kiss during spin-the-bottle. That handsome guy I sat next to regularly at the bar and talked to before I met Laura._ I had definitely found other guys attractive before. _Definitely._ But I'd never thought much of it. I'd never acted on it.

 

I'd never seen any of them the way I saw Max. But did I _love_ him?

 

I decided to use the rest of the break to really think about Max and decide for sure how I felt about him. But I couldn't think clearly on my own. I needed help. Instinctively, I headed toward the nearest payphone; I gotta call mum.

 

The realization punched me in the gut. I couldn't call mum. I couldn't ever call her again. I stood there, hollow for a while in the middle of the airport, trying to keep from breaking down. People walked around me muttering things and glaring at me.

 

Finally, after so long that it hurt to bend my legs, I took a deep breath and kept moving.

 

 

I got up early the next morning, just as the sun was coming up, and headed down to the old pearl farm. By the time I got there, the work day was just starting and it was easy to track down Davey. He was in by the worker's locker room, pulling on an apron.

 

“Oi, Davey.”

 

He started and looked at me curiously. “Hello, Wil. What're you doin' here? Come to help?” He smiled.

 

“Naw, Dave. 'M sorry. I actually- uh- I was hoping I could talk to you, seein' as how you're the closest I have left to family.”

 

“Of course, Wil,” He sat down on the bench running through the middle of the room. “What's on your mind, son?”

 

I sat down beside him and took a deep breath. “Davey, you remember that young guy I brought in? Max?”

 

He gave a light laugh, “How could I forget? He was a live one. A bit under-traveled, but he seemed like a hoot to be around.”

 

I couldn't help but smile. That's Max, alright.

 

“Where is he, anyway? I figured he'd be with you.”

 

“Ah, he's back in America. I- uh- ...he went home to see his family for Thanksgiving.”

 

“Ah right. That weird holiday they made up as an excuse to eat more than an average day's worth of food?” He snorted.

 

“Yeah, somethin' like that. Listen, I need some advice, Davey. About him.”

 

“Him? Whot, you thinkin' of adoptin' the bloke or somethin'?”

 

I nearly choked on the air I was trying to breath in. “N-No! He's young, but he ain't that young. He's...” I rubbed the back of my neck. This was harder than I thought. I wasn't even sure what Davey thought about anyone who wasn't cookie-cutter straight. And he'd only ever known me to be interested in girls. I suppose this was what “coming out” was... but I've barely even “come out” to myself.

 

“Come on, then, Wil. Out with it!”

 

“He's... we're... we're _lovers_ , Davey. We're a couple.” I felt all the blood rush to my head and I was suddenly extremely self-conscious. But I had to admit, it felt nice to acknowledge it to someone. I glanced at Davey. He was sitting, slack-jawed and stunned silent for once.

 

And then he suddenly burst into laughter. “Oh man, you almost had me there, Wil! That was a good one! It was almost ridiculous enough to believe!” He clapped his arm over my shoulders and for some reason, I was really offended that he didn't believe me. I shoved his arm off.

 

“It ain't a joke, Davey. We're really together. Have been for a few months now.”

 

Davey quieted as quickly as he'd started laughing and he gave me a confused look. “Don't you have a job fightin' in some war?”

 

“Yeah, so does he. I told you, we work together. I'm a sniper and he's... well he's more offensive. A runner, rough an tumble type. What does that matter?”

 

“You're serious?” Now he seemed deeply offended. “You left home after your girlfriend was killed to fight in a war no one has ever heard of, and you meet a scrawny American kid young enough to be your _son_ and you fall in _love_ with him? On the _battlefield_? Nevermind that no one ever knew you even swung both ways, you'll just have to forgive me if it all seems a little hard to believe.”

 

“He's _not_ that _young!_ ” I was getting pissed. Maybe it was a bad idea to try to talk to Davey about this, after all. “He's _twenty-fucking-four_ for Christ's sake. That's only a couple of years younger than Laura was. Besides, I'm not here to argue about his age or how I met him or anything like that.”

 

“Then what, Wil?”

 

“I'm not certain I'm really in love with him; And I _need_ to know. Before I get in too deep.”

 

“Knowing you, you're already in too deep.” Davey sighed. He seemed to be calming down.

 

“Maybe.”

 

There was a long, awkward silence. Then Davey finally spoke.

 

“Tell me about him.”

 

“Hm?” I barely looked at him.

 

“Tell me about Max.”

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Anything. Whatever comes to mind when you think about him.”

 

I thought for a moment. The first thing that came to mind was that brilliant flash of a smile. “He has the best smile, like the sun's shinin' out from his face. He's got a great laugh, too.” I smiled just thinking about it. “It's the most infectious laugh I've ever heard. He's got a great sense of humor and he'll always find a way to cheer me up. And he's supportive in his own way. It's like he knows me _too_ well. He knows exactly how far he can push me and when. He knows when I need to be alone and when I need him by my side and he just does it. I've never had to ask him for space or worry that he was too distant. He's always been just right there, within arm's reach but not hanging on my back, even before we started... dating, he was always around if I needed to talk or wanted a poker buddy.”

 

Davey was listening with stern, thoughtful look on his face. It was getting easier to talk about Max, now.

 

“It all happened so fast. There was an incident, the other team tried to off both of us, and suddenly it was all put into perspective for me. I finally realized why I always wanted him around. At first I just thought of him as a distraction- from Laura. But then I watched him get hurt on my account, and I watched him fight for me, to save me. And I watched him stay by my bedside when I was all but dead. And I realized that I never wanted to lose him. I couldn't handle it. He was healing me, making me whole again. And when my parents passed, he was there. He was a shoulder to cry on and and ear to blubber into and...”

 

I thought about the way we held each other in the perch, the way he let me cry into his shirt, the way he kissed me. “...and he loved me. When I thought no one else in the world was alive to do it, he loved me. He forced his way into my life and made me keep going. For the first time since Laura, I'm smiling again. He makes me happy, Davey.” I looked at him and I knew my face was probably red, and if I wasn't hell-bent on not crying in front of him, I knew I would be balling like a baby. “I haven't been happy in years.”

 

Davey sighed and shuffled a little in his seat. “Well there's your answer, son.” He raked his hand absently through his hair and let out another long sigh with puffed cheeks. “You haven't talked like that about anyone else except Laura, and heaven knows you loved her.”

 

“But, do you think it's possible that it's just me being needy? Just wanting company?” For a split second I imagined having to tell Max that things weren't going to work out and all of this had been a mess of misplaced affection. The look I imagined on his face was so heartbreaking that I nearly choked on my own breath.

 

“Could it be anyone, Wil?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Would you be just as happy with anybody else? Anyone who was attractive and nice and made you laugh? Or does it have to be him?”

 

I thought about that for a long time, trying to imagine being with anyone else; Trying to decide if anyone else could make me happy the way Max did. But it was tough. Imagining my life without him in it was like imagining life without the sun: Cold, dark, pointless.

 

And then it hit me. Sure, someone else could probably make me that happy. Plenty of people probably could. _But I didn't care._ I didn't give one single fuck that anyone else could make me happy. I wanted Max. It was him or nobody.

 

We'd sat for so long that Davey looked like he might get up and walk away, so I spoke up. “It's gotta be him, Davey. I thought about it and honestly, no one else matters. There might be other people, but I don't care to meet them. It has to be him.”

 

“Then there's your answer, Wil.”

 

And without another word he stood up and walked away. I was alone in the locker room.

 

“I am in love with Maximillion Robinson.” I smiled as I said it out load, and I could feel that it was the best, most genuine smile I've worn in a very long time. I imprinted the way it felt into my memory so that I could show Max when he got back. I wanted him to see how happy he made me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all my readers. You all keep me going.


	12. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Wil are reunited after Thanksgiving leave, Wil with a new clarity on his relationship with Max, and Max with a new reason to be apprehensive about returning home for Christmas.
> 
> "Isolate [Ambient Version]" - Moby

_**Sniper** _

 

When I stepped off the plane, Max was already standing there in the bare, dirty hangar we called an airport. His back was to me, hands in his pockets. I stopped for a second and just took him in.  He had the legs of a gazelle, the arms of a boxer, and the stance of a man built to take on the world and beat it with one hand behind his back. And he was mine.

 

“Max!” I ran towards him. He looked over his shoulder and his eyes lit up. I wanted to scoop him up and drown him in kisses, but seeing most of the team and Ms. Pauling milling about made me slow down as I got close to him. I settled for a short one-armed hug and I snuck a kiss on his ear as we pulled apart. His face reddened and I couldn't help but smile.

 

“Did you have a good time with your family?”

 

“Yeah, you could say that.” He smiled weakly, as if he was tired.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Eh, I'll tell you later.” He shrugged.

 

Whatever it is, it's personal enough that he didn't want to talk about it here, but he doesn't seem too troubled so it can't be that bad, can it? I didn't pry. “So why are we all just standing around here?”

 

Again he shrugged. “Ms. Pauling won't let us leave. Says she needs everyone here to make an announcement. Now that you're here, we're just waiting on Demoman. Pyro and Engie are apparently already back at Teufort. They came back early, I guess.”

 

As if Max saying it was its signal to arrive, the little plane with the Scottish flag landed and taxied into the hangar. Demoman stepped out evenly, sober for once. As soon as he made it to the rest of the group, Ms. Pauling cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.

 

“Alright, team. We've got Heavy, Medic, Scout, Soldier, Sniper, Spy, and Demoman now, so that's everyone for the time being. I kept you all here to announce that there's going to be a change in where you're going to be stationed. This change is being made in response to the RED team changing their course of action and focusing on a different area of interest.”

 

Demoman audibly groaned. Everyone else just sort of mumbled to each other. Max and I shared a quick glance of vague interest.

 

“Your new base,” Ms. Pauling continued, “Well I can't tell you the exact location of course, but it's very far north. You guys are headed to a _lot_ of snow.”

 

This time everyone except Heavy groaned, including me. I hate cold weather. And snow is the worst thing nature ever invented. Even Max, who was very used to hard winters looked annoyed with the news. Heavy, on the other hand, was grinning and bouncing on his toes, happy as a lark.

 

“Ah, Ms. Pauling,” I waved to get her attention, “I trust you'll be flyin' my camper van?” It was a small matter, but at the very least it'd be a little warmer than whatever meager living arrangements we'd be given. And more private for that matter.

 

“Of course, Sniper, as long as you're still fine with the cost being taken out of your paycheck. It won't be flown, however. We'll have it loaded on to the train.”

 

“Right, thanks.”

 

Max spoke up this time, “Yo, Ms. Pauling, our stuff already there or somethin'? 'Cause I dunno about the rest of these weirdos, but I don't have any of my cold weather gear.”

 

“Already taken care of, Scout. All your belongings are on the train.”

 

“Just out of curiosity,” Spy spoke up cooly, “if our previous base was named Teufort, does our new base have a name?”

 

“The only name they've given me clearance to use is 'Coldfront'. So if that's what you wanna call it, go for it.”

 

I leaned over to Max, “Well that sounds just lovely, eh?”

 

“Yeah, I'm just tickled pink at the sound of it.” He scoffed.

 

“Our orders are simple and clear. We _must_ protect this territory, guys. This is a vital refuel station for the trains that deliver our supplies. If they take this from us, it could take months to build a new section of rail line, and without food, water, ammo, or the materials to keep respawn running, we probably won't last long enough to see it happen. To lose this battle could mean losing the war. Does anyone have any more questions?”

 

We were all silent. I wondered if Pyro and Truckie were going to be there by the time we got to the new base, but I decided not to ask.

 

“No? Good. Alright, then everybody head to the train station outside.”

 

“Wait, we ain't flyin'?” Max was clearly annoyed.

 

“No, Scout. Did you not hear the last several questions I answered with the word 'train' in them? The weather heading into the new base is treacherous and the last thing we want to try to do is fly a plane full of the most expensive mercenaries on the planet through any massive blizzards. It'll take a little longer to get there, but it'll be safer in the long run.”

 

Doc finally spoke, “But, Ms. Pauling, isn't the other team already there? Taking the extra time to ride a train into base might cost us the battle.”

 

“They're not there yet, Medic. We got wind of where they were going through a series of trusted connections. Our guess is they're leaving sometime between now and tomorrow morning, and we gather they won't try to fly in, either. We plan to get there at the same time they do, if not earlier. Now no more talk! Everyone on to the train!”

 

BLU must've blown their transportation budget on nice planes for everyone because the train was a complete disaster. Firstly, it wasn't even a _passenger_ train. It was a cargo train with nothing in it except our few belongings. Everyone stepped into a boxcars, Heavy and Medic shared one, Solly convinced Demoman to join him in one, Spy, with a little extra effort, found his way into one by himself. Max and I decided to take the last one. But before we got on, Max stopped and called to Miss Pauling.

 

“Hey Miss Pauling?”

 

“What is it Scout?” She didn't even look up from the clipboard she was carrying with her.

 

“Where's Engie and Pyro?”

 

For a split second, she seemed startled. Then she was back to normal. “There was an incident. Pyro had a family emergency. Engineer is sticking with him for a little while, as bringing Pyro in his current state would have potentially compromised the team's safety. He and Engineer will join you guys at the new base in a couple of days after we do a full psych-eval on Pyro.”

 

“Shit, what the hell happened?” There was genuine concern written all over Scout's face. And I was probably even more worried, considering I knew about all the relatives he's lost. This had to be pretty damn bad.

 

Miss Pauling looked at us with a stern expression. “Guys. Get on the train.”

 

I guessed that was her way of saying it was confidential. I pulled Max along into the boxcar and we closed the door behind us.

 

As soon as we got settled and comfortable on the floor of the boxcar, Max asked me if I knew anything about Pyro. I told him what little Pyro had told me. I also told him about what Pyro looked like and how he was definitely a guy, and even fairly attractive.

 

“Huh. With a history like that, now I'm even more worried about him.” Max sighed and propped his elbows on his knees. It was weird, seeing Max so concerned for someone else and not cracking jokes or trying to lighten the mood. He seemed quieter and more calm than normal.

 

“So what happened with your family?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“What didn't you want to say earlier?”

 

“Oh. That. Right.” He paused and seemed to be thinking really hard.

 

“Well?” Now I was getting worried.

 

“I uh- I came out. To my family.”

 

A brief thought of my conversation with Davey flashed across my mind. “Yeah? How'd it go over?” I smiled at him.

 

“Ah, well. Not as bad as it could've...” He trailed off.

 

“But not as well as you'd hoped?”

 

“Not really. Mom was fine, everything sort of fell together for her. She understood some things about me from growing up a little better. My oldest brother said he already knew, that he could tell when I was really young. Which makes sense. He practically raised me.”

 

“Well that's good, I guess. What about the rest of them?”

 

“The twins were fine. Quincy handled it well. Markus, the one I grew up closest to, already seemed to know, too, but we were together all the time, so that didn't surprise me either. Peter didn't seem to care one way or the other.”

 

“Okay so that's...” I paused and tallied the numbers on my fingers. “Six of you brothers and your mom. You've got one more brother, right? And was that RED Spy there, too?”

 

“Yeah, Julius, the Spy, just sat there and laughed the whole time.”

 

“What a wanker. I'll kill him a few extra times next fight for ya.” I smiled at him and he gave me a half smile back. “So what about your last brother?”

 

“Joseph,” He sighed, “was furious. He's always been really homophobic. He's the reason I wasn't too thrilled about ever coming out to the family. He spouted some shit about disowning me as his brother which pissed off John, my oldest brother. And then he said that I must've been adopted because, in his words, 'Mom would've never birthed a fucking faggot.' And that really pissed off Quincy because he's my adopted brother, and Markus because he's super pro-gay rights. And basically everyone got in a huge fight with Joseph and it ruined dinner and I never even got the chance to tell them about you. I just snuck off the bedroom.” He sighed again, the sadness in his voice getting increasingly difficult to handle, “Joey didn't say another word to me for the rest of the break. He wouldn't even look at me.” Max looked like he might cry.

 

I scooted over to him and pulled him into my arms and held him tight. He sighed against my chest. I guess the bright side to not having a family, if there could be one, is that I don't have to worry about my relatives reacting so harshly to my affection for Max. Davey took it well enough, and he was the only one I had to tell.

 

I fingered the short locks of hair above his ear. “Do you still want me to go home with you for Christmas?”

 

“Of course,” He said quietly. “I just don't know how well it'll go over.”

 

I kissed the top of his head. “We'll change his mind.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to doing some work on FMD's sister-fic, "Watch Me Burn" so that I can try to work through this writer's block. But I'll return to FMD soon. Thanks for still reading this fucking monster.


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